My Saving Grace
by tika12001
Summary: 'You're not supposed to remember what came before. This much I know, but I suppose that I managed to slip through the system. Somehow, I escaped into the world again, my body new, my brain fresh... yet infused with memories from a past life. I remember it all. But mostly, I remember her. And I will find her again.' Rizzles. Nominated for Rizzles fan award! :-D thank you xo
1. Chapter 1

**_Title: My Saving Grace_**

**_Rating: ..._**

**_Author: tika12001 (aka Katie)_**

**_Disclaimer: not mine, make no money, etc, etc. But if I wish really hard, can someone please just send me Maura at least? :-P_**

**_Summary: AU. You're not supposed to remember what came before. This much I know, but I suppose that I managed to slip through the system. Somehow, I escaped into the world again, my body new, my brain fresh... yet infused with memories from a past life. I remember it all. But mostly, I remember her. And I will find her again._**

**_Author's note: Okay. This is a style that is... somewhat different to my usual, so I'm going to have to ask you to suspend your beliefs and just... be open to the ideas presented to you below. My inspiration for this is twofold: 1) shortly after I heard Robin Williams had died, I went on a Robin Williams movie binge watching session and in this session, I watched the movie 'What Dreams May Come' for the first time. In that movie, it presented the idea that, once in Heaven, you can choose to go back... to be reborn, and to find your loved one again. That idea stuck with me, but it wasn't until 2) I watched a documentary on YouTube, titled 'The Boy Who Lived Before', that this story really stuck in my head. It talked about a young child who had memories of a past life... of a mother and siblings who lived in a place that he really should have no clue about. These two ideas melded together in my head... and this is what gives you the story below._**

**_Religion and the afterlife is a topic that produces many strong, vehement opinions among people. Personally, I believe that people have a right to believe whatever makes them happy. If the thought of Heaven and Hell make you happy... so be it. Live your life as well as you can and aim to get to Heaven one day. After all, if it truly does not exist... you'll never know, will you? As to the thought of being reborn... well, I believe that there are old souls on this earth. People who are born with grace and wisdom beyond their years. Whatever you believe, I only ask that you are respectful in the comments section, and do not try to belittle others. This is a piece of fiction, and it is not intended to offend anyone._**

**_Now that that is over with... on to the story! The chapters will be varying lengths as I wrote it without worrying about where chapters would end and start... so bear with me on that._**

**_Also, chapter updates will be sporadic. I will attempt to post every week, but I make no promises._**

You're not supposed to remember what came before. This much I know, but I suppose that I, in my usual tempestuous ways, managed to slip through the system. Somehow, I escaped into the world again, my body new, my brain fresh... yet infused with memories from a past life. I have an old soul.

I remember. I remember it all.

But mostly, I remember her.

And I will find her.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

My mother likes to tell me about my vivid imagination as a child. "You had such creativity, Janie!" she gloated. "Such spirit, such free will... you created such tall tales that you'd often end up in tears, convinced you needed to find some character you'd made up. I have no idea where you got it!"

It's amazing how the mind works, isn't it? The denial, the fear... in my previous lifetime and this, I have found that people fear what they do not understand, and yet it still baffles me. How can a person deny something that is so real, so present, so obvious?

_"__In my old life, I was called Elizabeth, but everyone called me Beatie for short."_

_"__Really, dear?"_

_"__Yes. They called me that because one time I beat up a man so bad that he fell un... un..." 3 year old Jane hesitated. What _was _that word that danced so tantalisingly at the edge of her memory like a dream? "He fell asleep," she finally concluded with a sigh, figuring that that would have to do. "He took a long time to wake up. Like a week. Or an hour. I don't 'member."_

_Jane's mother, Angela, laughed, lovingly stroking her hand over her daughter's unruly curls, her other hand pressed to her heavily pregnant belly. "That's quite a difference, Janey."_

_"__Yeah," Jane shrugged. She couldn't tell time yet. What was time to a 3 year old? It was nothing. It simply consisted of sleep time, play time, rest time, home time, bed time, awake time, time to go out, time to come in, time to have dinner, time to have breakfast... the concept of 'time' was entirely a mystery, but Jane was content in the knowledge she'd figure it out eventually. "There!" she declared, holding up her picture. "I'm all done!"_

_"__Well, let me see it..." Angela held out her hand, curious as to what her usually rowdy, exuberant child had spent the last hour patiently colouring in. Jane handed her the picture and stared, awaiting the response. Angela frowned down at it for a long while though, finally holding it out so Jane could see it and asking, "Who's this?"_

_"__That's Grace. And see, that's me. Well, it's the old me." Jane rolled her eyes. "Not the me I am now, because now I'm little!"_

_Angela was still looking at the picture. "The two women are holding hands..." she said slowly._

_"__Yes," Jane paused in the middle of gathering her pencils, looking up at her mother quizzically._

_"_Why_are they holding hands?"_

_"__Because," Jane replied with a heavy, frustrated sigh, "they _love _each other. You know, like you and daddy."_

_"__Oh... well..." Angela looked at the picture closely, lowering herself into a chair carefully, "the thing is, Jane..." she frowned, as though unsure of the words she was about to speak, "is that only a man and a woman are supposed to love each other like that."_

_"__Why?"_

_"__It's... well, it's what the Bible says, and..." Angela paused, uncertain how much was appropriate for a child's ears, "and it's the way it should be," she finally finished lamely._

_Jane looked between her and the drawing several times, a small, serious frown knotting her already prominent eyebrows. "No, mommy. That's wrong. I _'member_. We _loved _each other. There was nothing wrong with it. Other people didn't like it though, so we had to hide it, but it wasn't wrong."_

_"__Jane, I..."_

_"__Is love wrong?"_

_Angela blinked. "I... well... oh Jane, of course it's not _wrong_, but..."_

_"__See?! Nothing wrong with it." Jane looked at the picture for a few seconds, a small, satisfied smile dimpling her cheeks. When she spoke again, she was back to her usual boisterous self. "I'm gonna go play outside, okay?"_

_"__I... okay. Stay where I can see you."_

_"__I will!"_

It wasn't the only time I made mention of Elizabeth 'Beatie' Mills and Grace Henderson. In fact, I mentioned them many times. I dreamed of their life, their moments of happiness, their moments of sorrow... and I felt homesick. Not for that life... it was a hard life, to be sure... but for her.

My saving Grace.

That's what I called her, you know. My saving Grace.

_"__Do you know how we met, Pop?"_

_"__Of course I do, Janie... you grew in your mother's belly and I talked to you every day until you arrived!"_

_"__Not _us!_I mean me and Grace. Well, Elizabeth and Grace." Jane paused and watched interestedly as her father disconnected a pipe, pulling it out and looking through it. "We met when I saved a man from killing himself."_

_"__That's interesting," Frank replied, settling onto his back so he could see under the sink more clearly._

_"__He was standing on a bridge and jumped off, and I jumped after him."_

_"__Wait... OW!" Frank jumped as he hit his head on the sink in his hurry to sit up. "You know to _never _jump off a bridge, right? Or ever into anything when you don't know how deep the water is?"_

_4 year old Jane rolled her eyes. "Of _course _I do, Pop. This wasn't _me _me... it was the me who was here before."_

_Frank averted his eyes awkwardly, wondering vaguely if he needed to take his daughter to a shrink. "Right."_

_"__Anyway, Grace jumped in after me. I grabbed the man, she grabbed me, and we all got back to shore."_

_"__Did the man survive?" Frank asked, and almost instantly winced. Not only was that question inappropriate for a child barely out of her toddler years, he supposed he really shouldn't be encouraging the fantasies that seemed to become more detailed all the time._

_"__Yes. Grace pushed on his chest till he breathed again. But he was a little bit funny after that. Like... a little bit... stupid?" Jane asked, unsure if that was the right word, finally shrugging. "But... once I was in the water, I realized I couldn't get him out by myself. So she was my saving Grace, see?"_

_"__And you... loved her. Like I love Ma." Frank was hesitant as he asked this question, unsure if he wanted to hear his child admit to a previous life in which she was involved in a lesbian love affair._

_"__Yes." As he watched, Jane grew downcast, her shoulders drooping and her eyes lowering to the floor. "I miss her, you know. I wish I knew where she was."_

_"__Well... she'd... she'd be dead, wouldn't she?" Frank asked, biting his lip, horrified at himself once more for letting the curious question slip out._

_"_Grace _is dead. Yes. She died after me. But we both came back."_

_"__What's her name now?"_

_"__I don't... I don't know." There was silence after this for such a long time that Frank slowly lowered himself back down and under the sink, allowing the work to take over his senses so he wouldn't be compelled to think about his distressed child. "We're not supposed to remember, you know," Jane finally added, in a whisper. "We're not supposed to... but I do."_

_Frank lowered his tools, staring hard at the pipes as he breathed heavily. "Maybe... you're meant to. So you... so you can find her again." Slowly, he lifted his head slightly, just enough so he could see his child, who was beaming at him brightly._

_"__Maybe, Pop! Maybe that's the reason."_

As time went on, and I became more sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of others – most particularly, the worry my parents felt – I learnt to control the impulse to talk about my memories of a past life. But my friend, Barry... he was always happy to listen.

_"__Where did you live?"_

_"__In a little wooden cottage, in a small town called Tockner Valley. We painted the cottage bright blue, because it was her favourite colour."_

_Barry typed some things into a search engine on the computer, and suddenly, Jane was staring at her old hometown. Slipping from the bed to her knees, she grasped at the laptop hungrily, bringing it onto her lap and staring at the image, drinking it in. Things in the town had changed... she knew that they would have... but enough stayed the same that she still recognised it._

_"__My house, can you find my house? Is it still there?"_

_"__What was your street address?" Barry asked and 10 year old Jane shut her eyes. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember the smaller details of her past life... things like numbers, dates and even people (besides Grace, of course) tended to blur into the background the further she sunk into _this _lifetime... but she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could still remember this._

_"__It... it started with a G," she said softly, screwing her eyes up tighter and pressing her fingers into unruly ringlets. "Gr... green? Greentop, maybe, or... Grenville. Or..." she groaned loudly. "I don't know! I don't remember."_

_"__It's okay," Barry soothed, his dark eyes glittering with concern. "Don't hurt yourself... it's okay."_

_"__No, it's not!" Jane said, frustrated. She stood up and paced about his small bedroom, antsy. "It's not okay because I _need to know. _I need to know that this is real, that this isn't something I made up in my head. I need to know..." she sighed heavily, and Barry nodded, finishing the thought._

_"__That she exists? Grace?"_

_"__Yes." Jane suddenly spun around, looking at him. "Death records! Is there any way you could look up death records for the time I believe I was alive?"_

_"__I... I don't know..." Barry hesitated, and Jane came up to him, kneeling down and holding onto his knee as she looked at him beseechingly._

_"__Please. C'mon Frost, you're a genius at this computer stuff. You can do it, I know you can."_

_"__Well... okay. But let's see if we can find your house first."_

_Jane nodded eagerly, coming up and sitting next to him on the bed again, watching as he typed various things into the search bar. "Green... we have Greenhill, Greenslope, Greens, and Grenwich... no Greentop or Grenville." He looked at her with apologetic eyes and Jane turned away from him, not wanting to see the pity, but as she turned, her eye caught sight of a folder on his desk, which somehow sparked her memory._

_"__Try Groller."_

_"__Groller? Like..." Barry shrugged, typing the word in, and Jane turned back only when she heard him whoop. "We have a winner! Why the hell kind of weird name is Groller though?"_

_"__I don't know, some rich dude in the town or something... can we look down the street?"_

_"__Gotta love technology," Barry grinned and, with a click of a button, the street was visible. But... Jane frowned. This wasn't the street she knew. The houses were new... modern._

_"__Go down the street. Please," she requested quietly, and Barry clicked several times. "We lived on the end... we were right at the top of the valley, on the outskirts of town, and we could just see the ocean." Barry nodded silently beside her and continued clicking, waiting for her to say something, but she wasn't getting any flash of recognition. At least, until... "Stop!" she drew the laptop onto her lap and stared at the screen. They were, at least in the virtual sense, almost exactly where her house had once stood, but now it was just a green field, overrun with flowers. "It's... there. It's there. Our house... it was right... right there. God, I wish I could go there..." Jane whispered, and Barry put his hand on top of hers in silent compassion, and she sighed, staring at the screen with hungry eyes for several long minutes. Finally, "Can you look up death records now?"_

_"__I can try," Barry replied, gently pulling the laptop back and beginning to type and click rapidly. Jane waited impatiently, looking around his room as she drummed her fingers on her knees but, despite her impatience, it still took half an hour before Barry let out a yell of victory. "I did it! I probably broke about a billion laws, but I did it! Okay... Grace..." he quickly typed in the first name into the database, then looked at Jane expectantly. "What was her last name?"_

_"__Grace... Grace..." Jane frowned, her hands curling into fists on her lap. "H... Grace Hed... Grace... _fuck! _Why can't I remember? It was Grace H... damnit!" Jane stood up and began pacing once more, a thousand names running through her head. "My name was Mills... how come I can remember that, but not her last name?"_

_"__I can try Grace Mills?" Barry suggested and Jane shook her head morosely. _

_"__No. Even if she took my name, it would not have been a legal name change. She would still have her birth name on her death certificate. Grace... _fuck!_" __She wrenched her fingers through her hair angrily, looking at the posters Barry had on his wall, hoping for some inspiration, but none came. As she turned to continue her pacing, she accidentally kicked a baby toy that lay almost hidden in the corner of the room and swore loudly again, picking it up._

_"__Oh, sorry. My sister is always leaving her crap in here..." Barry said, reaching for the toy, but Jane kept hold of it, looking intently at the barnyard animals that stood out from the background. She poked experimentally at the chicken, and it let out a loud clucking noise. "Jane?" Barry asked, and Jane started, looking at him._

_"__Try Grace Hen... Hen..." she closed her eyes, willing herself to remember. "Hendrickson. Or... no. Henderson." Her eyes snapped open. "Henderson! Try Henderson!"_

_With a curious glance at the toy still held tightly in Jane's trembling grip, Barry turned his attention back to the computer and obediently typed in the name. Jane waited, quaking with an odd mix of fear, anticipation and hope, and almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the loud reassuring 'beep' that meant there were some matches to their enquiry. "We have something," Barry said quietly, and Jane felt the toy fall out of her suddenly boneless hands._

_"__What is it?" she asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper._

_"__Grace Henderson. Died aged 84. No children, no husband, lived with..." Barry paused, and Jane turned her head to him abruptly._

_"__Lived with who? _Who_, Frost?"_

_Barry took a deep shuddery breath before continuing to read, "... her dear friend and companion, Miss Elizabeth 'Beatie' Mills."_

_Jane felt her world growing dark about the edges as she wavered in place. "She existed. I existed."_

_Barry threw the laptop on the bed and leapt to his feet, steadying Jane with a firm hand under her elbow. "You did. You _did_," he whispered forcefully, and she looked at him, her eyes unaccustomedly filling with tears._

_"__Thank you."_

END CHAPTER ONE

_Please let me know what you think! I am very involved in writing this one, and I feel it will be quite long, as I have no intention to rush it. If it sounds like something you might be interested in, please let me know. :-) As always, love to all, xoxo -Katie_

_Oh, also please bear in mind that this is fiction... some things may not be entirely accurate. If something stands out as wildly incorrect, please let me know, otherwise just know that I am trying my best. :-)_


	2. Chapter 2

_If you have any questions, please ask... but hopefully as the story goes on, I will manage to answer any questions through the story itself._

Chapter 2

It took a long time before I gathered up both the courage and the money to visit my old homestead... I was 22. Frankie, the eldest of my two younger brothers, was the only one I told besides Barry Frost. Both men offered to come with me, but I declined their offer. I was young, fresh... I had just finished police academy, and I was about to start my full time job as a police officer for the Boston PD. But I had to visit my home first.

_"__Hello? May I help you?"_

_Jane was startled by the unexpected voice... she jumped before turning around and looking at the young woman who stood behind the counter, regarding Jane with no small amount of curiousity. "Yes... yes, I'm sorry, I was just..." she gestured at the wall behind her, which was covered in a vast eclectic range of photo frames, every frame filled with what seemed to be a very old photo, "just looking at your pictures here. They... the pictures... are old. Are these people the past inhabitants of this town?"_

_The woman perked up, brushing fiery red hair behind her ear as she came out from behind the counter, her deep brown eyes glittering with enthusiasm. "Yes, they are! Are you... do you... I just... I'm sorry," she gasped and flushed slightly, and Jane watched in fascination as the red blush flowed from her cheeks up into her forehead and down onto her neck, almost completely obscuring her freckles, "I myself am completely fascinated with the town's history, so I tend to get a little overexcited."_

_"__That's okay," Jane said softly, turning her attention back to the photos._

_"__Are you... interested... in history?" the woman spoke slowly and carefully this time, and Jane turned to her again, finally glancing down at her uniform, looking for a name badge._

_"__Isabelle. Hi. My name is Jane Rizzoli. Officer Jane Rizzoli."_

_"__Oh..." the young woman looked confused. "Officer? Are we... am I... in some sort of trouble?"_

_"__No," Jane hastily reassured her. "I'm sorry. I just... I only recently got the title, so I'm still kinda trying it on for size."_

_"__Oh," Isabelle laughed. "I understand. Well, Officer, people 'round here just call me Belle."_

_"__People 'round my home just call me Jane."_

_'__Belle' laughed happily. "I'm pleased to meet you, Jane. So..." she turned her attention back to the photos and Jane did the same, her eyes still searching almost frantically for a familiar face. It was hard though... the memories that she thought were fading at 10 had been practically crystal clear compared to what she had now. The only things she had now were pictures that she had drawn, names and dates that she had thought to note down. The memories were all but gone, forced out by memories and knowledge of a current life, but the certainty remained: Jane had been here before. 'Beatie' had been here before. And so had Grace. "... what can I help you with? Are you after a room for the night?"_

_Jane started once more, so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she had almost forgotten that Belle was still present. "Yes. Uh, yes please. And..." her eyes swept over the wall once more, "I was wondering if... if we might be able to have a chat about the history of this town. I find it rather interesting, to be honest."_

_"__Sure! Well... I mean to say... we're just a small town. We don't have a terribly exciting past..." Belle said, as she turned around and opened a cupboard behind her, pulling out a key and putting it on the counter, pushing it towards Jane, "I mean, _I _find it interesting... but I live here. Do you... forgive me for asking, but do you have a personal connection to this town?"_

_"__I..." Jane stopped, realizing that she had been about to say to this young woman that she used to live here. But she hadn't, really, had she? 'Beatie' had lived here, not Jane Rizzoli. "I know of someone who used to live here. A long time ago. I guess... I guess I just wanted to know more about where she lived, what her life was like..."_

_"__Really?" Belle said, her eyes lighting up as she pulled out a form and began filling it out absentmindedly. "What was her name?"_

_"__Henderson. Grace Henderson."_

_"__Henderson... hmm..." Belle tapped her chin with one hand as she pushed the form towards Jane with the other, gesturing at her to complete the information needed. "The name sounds very familiar, but I just can't place it at the moment. Do you know where she lived? Because, you know, a lot of this town hasn't changed. Many of the houses and stores are still the same, they've just been... modernised." She gestured awkwardly at the computer that sat on the edge of the desk as she spoke and Jane smiled slightly, admitting to herself that it _did _look rather out of place in such a rustic, homely place as this._

_"__Yes" Jane replied. "But... the street where she lived... it's all different. There are none of the houses that used to be there. At least," she added lamely, "I don't think so."_

_"__Well, we did have a big fire back about... oh, 20 or 25 years ago now. It was pretty much the only exciting thing that ever happened in this town. It took a lot of houses with it. Maybe that's the area you're talking about?"_

_"__Maybe," Jane answered noncommittally, finally finishing the form and pushing it back towards Belle, her gaze once more focusing on the photos. "Tell me, Belle... are these the only photos you have?"_

_"__Oh no, I've got thousands more. My family is the oldest in Tockner Valley... we've been here from the day it was founded." Belle smiled proudly. "I reckon we've got photos of almost every person who ever lived here."_

_Jane felt her heart quicken slightly. If she saw a picture of Grace... or indeed, even of her past self... would she be able to recognise the person within the photo? "I'd very much appreciate an opportunity to look through those photos... with your permission of course, and your presence is welcomed."_

_Belle smiled brightly but her face quickly melted into a frown. "You _sure _this isn't police business? I mean, not that I'd want to impede a police investigation, but..."_

_"__No," Jane interrupted, smiling slightly, making Belle smile once more in return. "It's just... curiousity, I guess. Wanting to know m... her past." She winced, hoping Belle hadn't caught the momentary slipup, but the expression on Belle's face never wavered._

_"__Okay then! Well, I'm happy to help. How about we get your luggage up to the room and you can get settled, and we'll get started in an hour or two?"_

_"__Oh... well..." Jane hefted the fairly large tote bag she had slung over her shoulder. "This is pretty much it, actually, so I can be up and back in about ten minutes. I mean," she added, suddenly self conscious and aware she was possibly being over eager, "if that's okay, of course."_

_"__Oh, of course!" Belle said, a smile instantly lighting up her pretty face. "I'll just be in the back office, sorting things out..." she hooked a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the office door that Jane had barely noticed before, "so you just knock on that when you're ready, okay?"_

_"__Okay..." Jane said hesitantly. "Thank you." She glanced down at the key she held in her hand, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Could it be possible? Was she actually about to see a picture of the woman she had loved in a past life? Was she about to see the face and the body that she herself had worn in that past life? It felt like a dream... she could scarcely believe that she was actually here._

_"__Oh, I'm sorry... it's up the stairs, third door on the left," Belle said, and Jane jumped, startled, almost dropping her key._

_"__What?"_

_"__The room? You looked a bit lost... so..." Belle trailed off, frowning, and Jane made sure to instantly paste a reassuring smile on her own face._

_"__Sorry. Yes. Thank you. Just... you know, a bit tired. From the journey here and everything."_

_"__Oh," Belle nodded understandingly. "Well, if you decide to take a nap, that's fine... I'm here in this office until 7pm, so you'll catch me any time before then."_

_"__Thank you," Jane said softly. "I'll be down here shortly."_

_Belle smiled warmly. "I look forward to it."_

It was the hardest thing in the world for me, to go upstairs and wait that extra few minutes before demanding to see the photos. Funny, isn't it? I had waited 22 years to get here, and yet I felt ready to burst waiting that extra 10 minutes. The wait, however... it was worth it.

_Jane knocked on the door sharply. She had counted down the ten minutes on her watch and almost bolted down the stairs the very second that the time was up. Now she felt as though her heart was going to pound right out of her chest. Pictures of her past life potentially lay in the room just beyond that door, and she didn't know how much longer she could wait..._

_Thankfully, she didn't need to find out, as the door swung open and Belle stood there, beaming widely. "Hi Jane! You decided not to take a nap then?"_

_"__No," Jane said, smiling slightly. "I guess curiousity got the better of me."_

_"__Where are you from, anyway?" Belle asked, standing aside and beckoning Jane in with a crooked finger._

_"__Uh... Boston," Jane replied, her mouth falling open as she surveyed the room. It was utter chaos, overfilled boxes and bits of paperwork lying everywhere. In fact, there were only two places that didn't seem to be covered in paperwork: the set of filing drawers that sat in one corner of the room, and the desk chair that Jane could only assume Belle sat in most of the time. Belle rushed forward and hurriedly took a stack of papers and photos off the other chair in the room, nodding her head towards it, so Jane took the unspoken invitation and sat down. "Is this all hotel...?"_

_"__Oh no," Belle said. "That's all in there," she nodded her head in the direction of the filing cabinet. "I don't let that get mixed up with this stuff." She picked up a couple of papers, looking through them quickly before moving them on top of what seemed to be an empty bird cage. At least, Jane hoped it was empty. "So, Boston, huh? Is it nice there?"_

_"__Busy," Jane replied, still trying to discreetly look into the cage. "Not peaceful like it is here."_

_"__Boring, I think you mean." Jane glanced up sharply and Belle laughed. "Don't get me wrong, I love it here, and I think I'd be overwhelmed in a big city... but sometimes I do wish for just a _little _more excitement."_

_"__You'd get excitement in Boston, believe me," Jane smiled crookedly, and Belle smiled back._

_"__Yes, well... enough about that. Now, you said Henderson?" Belle asked and Jane sat up. She was fully prepared to go through the niceties a little bit longer before getting down to business, but she was most definitely not complaining._

_"__Yes. Grace Henderson."_

_"__Well," Belle said, pulling out a small stack of papers from underneath three books and what looked like an old feather quill, handing the papers to Jane, "I told you the name sounded familiar, didn't I?"_

_"__Ye-e-es..." Jane said slowly, looking down at the mismatched stack of papers in her hands, trying to make sense of them, but the words on the paper were not seeping through the cloud that seemed to be obscuring her brain._

_"__Well, that's 'cause she's one of the most famous residents of this town!" Belle blurted excitedly, then flushed. "I mean, it was 26 years ago now since she died, so not many people still remember her, but she... well, she was quite famous."_

_"__26?" Jane asked curiously. She was only 22 now... even if you factored in the nine months she existed inside her mother's womb, there was still 3 years that remained unaccounted for. Why was that?_

_"__Yes." Belle had pulled out another stack of papers, this from somewhere under the desk, and was now looking through them. "She was a doctor, and she once saved a man and a woman from drowning."_

_"__She did?" Jane looked through her papers, her fingers moving rapidly, looking for a photo, a news clipping, anything that would show her Grace's face._

_"__Yes. The man was trying to kill himself apparently! And a woman jumped in after him to try and save him, but she could barely swim herself... so Dr Henderson jumped in and saved them both! I mean, this was back when she was only quite young... possibly around your age, or a little older."_

_Jane glanced up at this, looking at Belle a bit more closely. She had thought, at first meeting, that Belle was around her own age, but looking at her now, she could see crows lines around her eyes and mouth that said she was actually in her late thirties, possibly even early forties. _And you want to be a detective one day_, Jane berated herself. _Learn to pay attention!

_"__What?" Belle asked, and Jane flushed._

_"__Sorry. I just... I thought you were around my age when I first met you."_

_Belle beamed. "You're a sweetheart. No, but I have a son around your age. He's 23." Noting the quizzical expression on Jane's face, she smiled crookedly. "I fell pregnant with him when I was 15. Nothing much to do around this place, you know."_

_Jane laughed out loud. "No, I imagine not." _

_"__Do you have a partner, Jane?" Bell asked. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking."_

_"__No, not presently," Jane replied shortly and she glanced down at the paperwork she still held in her hands, hoping Belle wasn't about to try to set her up on a date. She had enough of that with her own mother._

_"__Oh! Well, actually, you might even get to meet him while you're here!" Belle gushed, and Jane winced._

_"__Yeah. Maybe. We might get to be friends." She hoped Belle would take the hint... she wasn't sure how homophobic people were in small towns like this, but she thought she could safely take the bet that there was at least a modicum of homophobia in many people._

_"__Or maybe I could set you up on a date!" Belle went on, and Jane winced once more. She wondered vaguely if she should lie, but something about this woman led her to believe that she'd see through a lie in an instant._

_"__I... I'm sorry. But I don't think that would be a good idea." Jane looked up only briefly before dropping her gaze once more. "I'd... I'd really like to talk about Grace now."_

_"__Oh," Belle said, looking a bit crestfallen. "Certainly... but may I ask why you're not interested in dating?"_

_Jane sighed. "I don't..." she hesitated briefly before forging ahead. "It's not that I'm not interested in dating. I'm just... not interested in dating anyone who has a penis." She shrugged, looking at Belle frankly, who looked rather taken aback._

_"__Oh. Oh!" She frowned slightly, but not, Jane thought with a small ray of hope, like she was about to kick Jane out. "You're a lesbian then?"_

_"__I am a woman who has intimate relations with other women, yes, but I am not defined by my sexuality."_

_"__Huh. Oh, I mean... right. Well..." Belle looked down at the photos, "is that part of the reason you're so interested in Dr Henderson then?"_

_"__What... what do you mean?"_

_"__Well... there was never any actual _proof _of this, mind you... but many believed she entered into a relationship with the woman she saved, a Miss..." Belle looked down at her papers quickly, "Elizabeth Mills."_

_"__I... I see." Jane could feel her heart speeding up inside her chest and she struggled to keep her breathing regulated as she asked the next question. "Do you... do you happen to have a photo?"_

_"__Oh, yes, of course..." Putting down her current stack of papers, Belle dove into another stack, emerging only seconds later with a small rubber banded stack of photos. This office was, Jane considered faintly, the very definition of organised chaos. She stared at the pile of photos blankly, but was unable to make out any details... the top photo was covered with a piece of paper, stating clearly 'Dr Grace Henderson and (believed) partner, Elizabeth Mills'. "You can take these, if you like... you can peruse them at your own leisure in your room and return them to me before you leave."_

_"__Are you sure?" Jane asked, almost sitting on her hands in an effort to stop them trembling._

_"__Of course. And, all these papers... most of them will be of no interest to you... simply things that Dr Henderson signed over the years... but you're more than welcome to look at them."_

_"__I... thank you," Jane whispered, reaching out with still shaky hands to take the papers from her, adding them to the stack already on her lap._

_"__It's okay." Belle regarded her closely for a few long seconds and Jane shifted uncomfortably, unsure as to what Belle was looking for. "You know... you're an odd one, Officer Jane Razzoli."_

_"__Rizzoli," Jane corrected softly._

_"__Rizzoli," Belle agreed easily. "Yes, you're definitely an odd one."_

_She was quiet for several more seconds until Jane, holding the papers so tightly she feared she might rip them, felt herself burn with curiousity for more than whatever knowledge that paperwork would bring. "Why do you say that?"_

_"__Because, Miss Rizzoli. You look like a stranger. You _act_ like a stranger. But I feel like I should be welcoming you home."_

_Jane looked down at the papers once more. "I... thank you for this."_

_"__You're welcome," Belle stood up, and Jane took her cue to leave, standing up also and heading for the door, but she turned back when Belle called her name once more._

_Belle regarded her with a look of such aged wisdom that it made Jane wonder how she could have ever thought Belle was the same age as herself and she spoke after several long seconds. "I hope you find what you are looking for."_

_Jane glanced down again. "I hope I do too. Thank you."_

_"__You're welcome," Belle replied, and as the door shut, Jane thought she heard her add the word 'Beatie'._

**_END CHAPTER TWO_**

_Please let me know what you think :-) Love to all xoxo -Katie_

_Italics are used to tell instances of past times. They will not be used throughout the whole story. I had a review relating to this, so thought I would clear that up. :-)_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I never saw Isabelle... Belle... again. The next few times I went down to the desk, it was a young man manning the counter, a young man I could only assume was her son. He looked up at me as I came and went from the hotel several times, but seemed to understand my desire to not talk, and respected it. He was really a nice young gentleman, and ultimately, it was he who took the paperwork from me as I finally left Tockner Valley and signed me out of the register, taking my money and my thanks for their hospitality, promising to pass on my best wishes to his mother.

As to the paperwork I had been given to look through during my stay... well, you may find it surprising to learn this, but it actually took me several days to pluck up the courage to start going through it. I don't know why... I have always been known as 'fearless' and while that's not entirely accurate, I am certainly braver than most people I know. But, for a few days at least, I couldn't face up to that paperwork... to those photos. You see, while I already had been given proof that my memories were real... that they correlated to real places and real people... I still worried that I would look at these photos, and just see strangers. The thing I wanted most of all – the thing I would admit to no one except myself – is that I hoped that, when I looked at these photos, memories would resurface, just as strong, if not stronger, than the ones I had as a child. I wanted something, _anything_, that would help me find Grace now, in whatever body she happened to be in, but I didn't have high hopes. All I expected – the _most_ I expected – was a flash of recognition.

It wasn't what I got.

_Jane sat at the desk, the paperwork still neatly piled in front of her in the exact place she had left it when she came to the hotel on Monday afternoon._

_It was now Friday morning._

_She had spent the time wandering about the small town, getting to know it as well as she could, hoping for a flash of recognition that didn't come. If it was going to come – that flash that she so wanted and yet dreaded _because _of her intense desire – it was going to come from the stack of papers._

_The stack of papers that still sat on the desk._

_"__Come on, Jane... man up," she whispered, looking down at the papers that had been carefully placed upside down by her own trembling hands. "You came here to do this... do it."_

_With a hand that seemed as pale as a ghost, she finally reached out, taking the top piece of paper off the pile. The paper was thin, fragile, she noted absently, as she stared at the back of it. Like a receipt, maybe... taking a deep breath, she turned it over._

Dr Grace Henderson

Medical Doctor

49 Groller Avenue

Tockner Valley

_Jane read the top heading furiously fast the first few times, then slowed down, reading it again. She had proof... hard proof that the woman she had loved... she'd existed. Not just a name on a computer monitor, this was evidence she could hold in her own two hands. She kept reading._

One consultation. Price: $15.

Patient: Robert Edgar.

Signed: Dr G Henderson

**_***"Oh, I had to see that Robert Edgar today. Honestly, he has got to be the most _****vile ****_man..."***_**

_The voice – the memory – entered her head without warning and Jane shook her head in confusion, putting that paper aside and picking up another one._

Patient: Betsy O'Donnell

**_***"She's expecting twins! She's terribly anxious though, you know they don't have much money, so I said we'd..."***_**

_The voice faded in and out, almost like a badly tuned radio, and Jane's breath quickened. She put that paper aside too, picking up another one._

Patient: Lucy Hills

**_***"I wish I knew what was wrong with her. She's only 7, and she's wasting away. It just makes me feel so useless!"_**

**_"_****_You're not useless... you're doing everything you can..."***_**

_Jane gasped. Beatie. She had just heard Beatie. Her voice was much higher pitched than Jane's own, but she sounded strong, fierce, loyal... much like Jane herself. Moving more quickly now, Jane picked up another piece of paper, reading the name on that one._

Patient: John Smith

**_***"He is such a sweet man. Honestly, it is patients like him that made me realize why I wanted to be a doctor..."***_**

_Gasping for breath, Jane almost threw that receipt down and her hand reached out for the next sheet of paper, but then she hesitated. The next sheet was not another receipt... it looked like a newspaper clipping. With trembling hands, she reached down and picked it up. She had to handle it carefully... the paper felt brittle enough that it might just disintegrate in her hands, but it was tougher than it appeared and eventually she held it between her hands. It was still upside down, so, with a deep breath, she flipped it over._

Hero Doctor Saves Man and Woman from Drowning!

A medical student by the name of Grace Henderson has managed to save a man and a woman from drowning in the treacherous waters of Snowy Creek. "I was coming along the bridge, heading for home," Henderson tells us, "when I saw two people over the railing, talking. Immediately I started fretting, wondering if it was some kind of suicide pact, for I have heard of such things... but before I could get any closer, the man jumped."

We have found out since the incident that the man, Jeremy Wilder, had been displaying symptoms of a depressive nature prior to his suicide attempt and the woman who was also hanging on the side of the bridge, a friend of his by the name of Elizabeth Mills, was trying to talk him into climbing back over.

"I yelled out as soon as I saw him jump, of course," Henderson continues, "And the woman looked over at me briefly... but then she jumped too. Well, I felt I had no choice but to go after them." When we asked if she was not worried that she would be pulled under by either the depressive man or the strong current, Henderson looks surprised. "I didn't really think of that at the time," she tells us. "I know I am a strong swimmer, so I felt pretty confident in my ability to pull him to shore."

Little did she know, of course, was that Mills and Wilder were both weak swimmers... so in fact, she ended up having to pull them both to shore.

"Do you consider your act a heroic one?" I asked Henderson, who again looked somewhat surprised. "No, not at all," she answered. "I just did what had to be done. It appears I've made a friend out of it at least."

And indeed she has... according to a reputable source, Henderson and Mills have reportedly been spending 'lots of time together'. One can only assume it is Mills attempting to thank Henderson properly for saving her life!

Article written by: Joseph Rowland

_Jane had read the article hungrily, her hand deliberately covering up the photo down the bottom, but now she had read it, she moved her hand._

_It was a picture of two women: one was short, squat, blonde, with a fierce look on her face (Elizabeth Mills, the caption under the photo declared), the other was tall and very slender, willowy and graceful looking, her hair (though the black and white picture didn't show it), a vibrant chestnut brown. She didn't look strong enough to pull _herself _through choppy waters, Jane thought, let alone two other people, but appearances were deceiving..._

**_***"I have nothing left to live for!"_**

**_"_****_You do, Jeremy, you do... you have your friends, your family... they all love you dearly..." Elizabeth glanced down at the rushing waters below, taking a deep breath as she tried to steel her nerves. Good _****God****_, she hated heights. "You have _****so much ****_to live for... you can't just throw it all away."_**

**_"_****_Why not?" Jeremy asked hopelessly, and Elizabeth sighed heavily, looking at him._**

**_"_****_Because you'd be giving up. And I _****know****_you, Jeremy Wilder. When have you _****ever ****_given up on _****anything?****_"_**

**_"_****_Maybe I decided to stop trying," he whispered, so quietly she almost missed it._**

**_"_****_Bullshit."_**

**_He glanced at her quickly, shock written all over his face._**

**_"_****_Yes, I said bullshit, and I'll say it again. You are running away, Jeremy. You are running away like a coward, and I _****know ****_you're not a coward. So please... just take my hand..." she held out a trembling hand and Jeremy looked at her, eyes wide, glittering with unshed tears. Slowly, he attempted to walk closer to her, and Elizabeth felt her heart soar... but then he lost his footing and was slipping... was falling..._**

**_"_****_NO!" The yell came from behind her, and Elizabeth barely glanced in that direction before leaping herself, the image of a pretty brunette rushing forward burned in her retinas as she leapt._**

**_The next few minutes were a whirlwind of confusion. Her lungs were burning, and she didn't know which way was up... but somehow, by some pure, stupid luck, she managed to catch hold of Jeremy, who had been snagged by a tree branch. Still unable to bring her head above water... not even sure which way 'above' was, Elizabeth nonetheless began kicking forcefully, hoping like hell she was going towards the bank, but suddenly, a small hand caught hold of her and started pulling her. Elizabeth, unsure of what was going on, tried to help by kicking forcefully, and mere seconds later, she was gasping for breath on the shore._**

**_"_****_You are an _****idiot!****_" _****_the brunette woman declared angrily, still hauling Jeremy up the bank... surely only by way of sheer willpower, Elizabeth thought absently. "Can you even swim?"_**

**_"_****_I... well, no, not really..." she murmured weakly, and the woman shook her head, ripping open Jeremy's shirt and laying her head close to his chest. "What are you doing?"_**

**_"_****_Seeing if I can hear his heartbeat... or see his chest move, which will indicate to me if he's breathing or not," the woman answered absently, bringing herself up onto her knees and lacing her fingers together on his chest, beginning to push hard and deep._**

**_"_****_What...?"_**

**_"_****_I'm performing CPR," the other woman said shortly, leaning down, pinching Jeremy's nose and proceeding to breathe air into his lungs._**

**_"_****_Will that save him?"_**

**_"_****_I hope so." She laced her fingers on his chest again and started pushing. This process seemed to go on for a lifetime, where the lady alternated between pushing on his chest and breathing in his mouth, but just when it seemed she was ready to give up, he gasped and started coughing up a huge amount of water._**

**_"_****_You saved him!" Elizabeth said, a smile lighting up her face as she crawled closer, patting him on the back._**

**_"_****_Yes. Well. No thanks to you. You're both idiots, by the way."_**

**_"_****_Yeah, so I've been told," Elizabeth grinned. "I'm Elizabeth, by the way. This is Jeremy."_**

**_The woman stood up, surveying her haughtily, and Elizabeth found that she had to squint back at her, because she stood directly in front of the setting sun. Finally... "I'm Grace. Dr Grace Henderson. Or," she flushed, "I will be soon. A doctor, that is." She looked almost defiantly at Elizabeth, as though expecting her to express disbelief. "I will not be the first woman doctor in America, not by a long shot. That honour goes to Elizabeth Blackwell. But it is still a very difficult field and I understand that some people think that this is a job unsuitable for women but..."_**

**_"_****_Hey, judging by the way you saved Jeremy's life," Elizabeth interrupted, grinning widely, "you're going to make a fine doctor."_**

**_Grace stopped mid sentence. "I... oh. Um... thank you."_**

**_"_****_You're welcome. So..." Jane looked down at Jeremy, who was still gasping for breath. "Let's sort him out, okay?"***_**

_She wasn't called Beatie yet, Jane remembered. That was to come later. How much later though, she did not know. Putting the newspaper article carefully aside, she began going through some more receipts. Every now and then she got another flash of memory... another instance of Grace talking about one of her patients... but mostly there was nothing. As Belle had said, there was not much to the pile... it was obviously all relating to Grace Henderson (and, in part, to Beatie as well, Jane noted with a bit of surprise), but much of it was boring: receipts and the like... nothing that really lent substance as to the type of women Grace or Beatie really were._

_Jane glanced at the pile of photos. Should she look...? No, she decided. No... be it good or bad, whether they produced memories or not, she would leave them until last. She would continue looking through this pile first._

_Many papers of the stack were simply receipts... Jane carefully placed them aside, face up this time so she could keep them in the same order that they were given to her in. She couldn't see there _was _an order to it... but still, better safe than sorry, especially as Belle had been so kind in letting her take them in the first place._

_Picking up another thin sheet of paper, Jane turned it over, preparing to put it to the side along with its mates, when she noticed the writing was different. This was not Grace's receipt... this was a receipt from a store._

Sky Blue House Paint: 6 gallons.

Price: $24

_Jane stared hard at the writing, a brief memory coming back of herself as a child. "It was blue," she had told someone, "because... favourite colour." Whose favourite colour was it, _whose? _Jane frowned down at the receipt again. Was it Beatie's favourite? Or was it Grace...?_

**_***"... you believe they're moving in together? It's scandalous."_**

**_"_****_Oh hush, Gertrude, it's not the 19_****_th _****_century anymore! Some young women choose not to get married at all nowadays."_**

**_Gertrude Howard sniffed haughtily. "Well. I still think it's preposterous. They are both young... reasonably attractive, particularly that Dr Henderson... they could easily find a husband..." she paused dramatically before adding, "_****if ****_they were so inclined."_**

**_Lucille Collins' mouth dropped open. "'If'? What are you implying?"_**

**_"_****_Well, you know what the word around town is... they are saying that..."_**

**_Beatie had heard quite enough by this point. Making a point of stomping her feet loudly, she swung open the door and walked inside, meeting the eyes of both the women inside the shop. "Oh, please don't stop on my account," she said loudly, forcing a rather ugly smile to her face, "Pray, tell us... what _****do ****_they say?"_**

**_Mrs. Howard maintained eye contact for only 5 defiant seconds before she dropped her gaze. Mrs. Collins... dear sweet Lucille... immediately made her excuses and left, touching Beatie on the shoulder gently. She, like many others, suspected what the true relationship was between Grace and Beatie but she, unlike many others, had no problem with it whatsoever. Love is love, she had declared to Beatie many a time, in many different conversations. She was, in fact, one of Beatie's favourite people for that very reason._**

**_"_****_Mrs. Howard?" Beatie pressed, and Gertrude shook her head._**

**_"_****_Never mind," she said sulkily, before straightening up and resuming her normal haughty air. "What can I help you with today?"_**

**_"_****_Well..." said Beatie, heading over to the hardware section of the country shop, forcing Gertrude to follow her, "I'm actually interested in purchasing some paint."_**

**_"_****_Oh, I see... I... wait, really?" Gertrude replied interestedly, curiousity getting the better of her. "What kind of paint were you after? We have canvas paint, oil based paint, la..."_**

**_"_****_House paint," Beatie interrupted, now looking at a colour panel. "I am interested in some paint for painting the exterior of our house."_**

**_"_****_Your..." Gertrude's eyes grew wide as she absorbed this new information. _****_"_****_Oh! Oh, I see! So... you're buying the paint yourself. Surely you will be hiring a nice young fellow to do the actual painting though? That young John Walters, he'd be more than willing..."_**

**_"_****_No. No, I will be doing the painting." Beatie looked up briefly and smiled. "I am quite capable, you know, even in spite of the fact that I do not possess the piece of equipment men have dangling between their legs."_**

**_Gertrude gasped in horror, and Beatie hid a smile. "The 'equipment'...?!"_**

**_"_****_I like this colour," Beatie interrupted, staring at Gertrude steadily._**

**_"_****_That... that colour, I... yes. Yes, you wish to purchase paint, I..." Gertrude stammered nervously, looking at the colour Beatie was pointing to. "Wait... _****blue? ****_That is a rather... unusual... choice for the exterior of a house, I must say. Might I suggest a nice beige... a subtle brown..."_**

**_"_****_No. No, thank you, I actually like the blue. And it's Grace's favourite colour, so..."_**

**_"_****_Grace's favourite... Dr Henderson?" At Beatie's nod, Gertrude continued, wringing her hands anxiously, "Right, well of course... if it is the Doctor's favourite colour, I can understand, but... I mean... such a _****colour****_..."_**

**_"_****_I will be paying for the paint today, of course, Mrs. Howard, and I ask that you inform me when it has arrived in store so that I may pick it up."_**

**_"_****_I... of course. Of course, I will let you know... now, I, uh... how much paint will yo...?"***_**

_So it was _Grace's _favourite colour, of course. Jane smiled down at the receipt. That Mrs. Gertrude Howard though... she was a piece of work. She was the town gossip, Jane remembered now. Beatie had never had much time for her; nor had Grace, but of course they both observed the social niceties and were polite. That, of course, did not mean that Beatie didn't avoid a chance to annoy her when possible..._

_To avoid going down another memory path that involved the annoying saleswoman, Jane flipped through some more paperwork. The memories were lovely, that was for sure... but they weren't exactly what Jane was after. Jane was searching, she now realized, for a way that she could recognise Grace in _this _lifetime. She needed something that could link the two lives together... that of Grace, and that of the woman she was now._

_What it could be though, she wondered. What could possibly be the key? Would Jane simply have to listen to her own heart, her own memories the rest of her life until she found Grace again? It didn't seem reasonable though... it was too possible that she would mistake simple lust for her soul mate... that she would let her imagination run away with itself and waste precious time. No, there had to be some sign... leafing through the rest of the steadily decreasing stack of paperwork, Jane sighed. Yes, there were memories there, but they were memories of late night conversations, early morning murmurings... there was nothing concrete, nothing that would help her find her... find Grace._

_Her gaze moved over to the photos and she breathed in deeply. Time to look at them, she supposed, and drew the small, rubber banded stack closer to her. With careful fingers, she carefully pulled off the band and put it aside, deliberately keeping her eyes on it as she also removed the piece of paper on top, putting it aside too. Finally, with a deep breath, she looked down at the top photo._

_Grace – tall, willowy Grace – had her hair pinned back in what seemed to be a fairly elaborate bun style, her pretty face set in... Jane squinted at the old, grainy photo. Was she scowling? She certainly didn't look very impressed... Jane's gaze travelled to Beatie, who, apparent even in the black and white image, was sporting a rather magnificent black eye, her expression sheepish. "Ohh..." Jane whispered._

**_***"I can't believe you did that. I just... I can't believe you _****did ****_that, that you were stupid enough to..."_**

**_Elizabeth winced, letting out a soft whimper when the movement aggravated her rapidly bruising eye, and wondered when the vehement diatribe was finally going to end. "He was making advances towards you!"_**

**_"_****_Yes he was, but I was perfectly capable of handling it all on my own. You didn't need to... need to... to _****fight ****_him like some overgrown school child!" Grace spat, almost apoplectic with anger._**

**_"_****_Yes I did!" Elizabeth insisted. ('Hey, it's the girl who beat that guy!' someone yelled out as they walked past)._**

**_"_****_No, you didn't! It was ridiculous, it was childish, it..." Grace insisted back. ('Hey, Bethie, right? Should call you _****Beat... ****_no, wait, _****BEATIE ****_after that fight!')_**

**_"_****_Damnit Grace, I did!" Elizabeth stopped in the middle of the street, staring up at Grace angrily. "Do you know what people say about him? About what he did to the Saunders girl?" ('Heeey, Beatie!')_**

**_Grace looked uncomfortable. "I... well, yes... but there was no proof... I mean..." ('Beatie!')_**

**_"_****_I... urrrgh..." Elizabeth let out a noise of frustration and grabbed Grace's hand, pulling her out of the street. She looked around, wondering where she could go, and finally decided to take her down to the river, where they were almost guaranteed seclusion. She stomped ahead, while Grace followed almost meekly behind, though Elizabeth was aware the argument wasn't over yet. Finally, they reached the riverside, and Elizabeth glanced around to be sure of their privacy, before her eyes landed on the bowed head of her companion. "Damnit Grace!" she said again, frustration evident in her tone. "Why, _****why ****_does everything have to be _****proven ****_for you? Why does everything have to be fact? He is a bad man. He is a bad man, I know it in my _****gut ****_and I know that if I hadn't been there, he could have... he could have..." She stopped abruptly, not even wanting to voice the thought aloud._**

**_"_****_Could have what?"_**

**_Elizabeth gulped, her mouth opening and closing a few times, but no noises came out. Finally, she sighed heavily. "Grace, I... I know you're strong. I know you can take care of yourself, and you don't need me to protect you. And I apologize for the way I... I..." Elizabeth flailed, as though trying to pluck the desired word from thin air, "I tend to just _****go off ****_like that, but you just, you have to know how much y..." She stopped abruptly, staring wide eyed at her companion._**

**_"_****_Know what?"_**

**_Elizabeth dropped her gaze to the ground. "Nothing. I didn't mean... I mean, I forgot. I forgot what I was going to say."_**

**_Grace shook her head. "You know what amazes me most about you, Beatie?"_**

**_Elizabeth looked up in surprise at the adopted name. "W-what?"_**

**_"_****_You assaulted that man today, because you worried he might hurt me. You were fearless. Yet you are _****fearful ****_when it comes to telling me how you truly feel. Do you ever stop to consider, Elizabeth, that your silence hurts just as much as his violence would have?"_**

**_Elizabeth frowned. "What do you...?"_**

**_"_****_We spend all our time together. You look at me as though I am the only person in the world... like you care about me deeply. You touch me all the time, you reach out for me, like you yearn for my affection. I do the same for you. And every time I have tried to speak about it, about _****us****_, you cut me off and I just..." Grace stopped, and Elizabeth noticed with growing horror that her eyes had begun to well up with tears, "I just don't know if I should..."_**

**_"_****_How much you mean to me," Elizabeth blurted out._**

**_Grace blinked. "I... I'm sorry?"_**

**_"_****_That's what I was going to say before. That I'm sorry for the way I react in certain situations, but you have to know..." she took a deep, fortifying breath before continuing, "you have to know how very much you mean to me. How much I care for you, how much I..." she faltered slightly, as Grace took a step closer, but forged on, "how much I need you in my life, how much I lo..." She stopped, not quite ready to make that leap of faith, but Grace was so close to her now... so close that if Elizabeth took a deep breath, the act of her lungs expanding with air would force her chest out and they would be chest to chest, only clothing separating them..._**

**_"_****_Lo...?" Grace prompted, her eyes dancing merrily, still shiny with unshed tears, and as Elizabeth looked up into them, she impetuously made the bravest decision of her life._**

**_She kissed Grace._**

**_"_****_See?" Grace whispered when they finally separated, but only minutely, their mingled breaths still dancing upon their wet lips, "Was that so hard, my Beatie?"***_**

_Jane put the photos down, her breath coming in rapid pants. She knew now. She knew what she needed to know... _all _that she needed to know. She knew about 'Beatie', about 'My saving Grace'... she knew about their house, and about how they met. There were things she didn't know, of course... things like how they died, their friends, their respective families, and Jane supposed that, given enough time with this stack of paperwork, of photos, she would eventually remember it all. Or, if not all, then most of it._

_But at what cost, she wondered. Would she become so lost in _that _life, in _those _memories... that she ceased to live as _Jane_? Would she forget to live her dreams, forget to look for the Grace that was alive right now, alive as another woman? She didn't know for sure, and that fact alone was enough to scare her. The urge to keep looking through Elizabeth's life was strong... the panicky feeling that maybe she hadn't yet found the 'thing' that would help her identify Grace once more was pressing, but Jane knew enough, and, resolutely, she put the photos back in their original order, placed the piece of paper carefully on top and bound them once more, placing them on top of the pile of papers._

_She stared at the pile for several long minutes before getting up and pulling her suitcase out from under the bed. _

_It was time to go home._

**_END CHAPTER THREE_**

_Now it's time for the real story to start. :-)_

_Please continue to let me know what you think. Reviews are my addiction. :-P Love to all xoxo -Katie_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When I returned to Boston, Barry and Frankie had a million questions for me. They were keen to know everything I had experienced, but when it came time to tell them, I froze. "I remembered," was all I eventually told them, and they both had to be satisfied with that.

It wasn't that I was embarrassed, you must understand. No, it was that I felt I was... almost breaking someone's trust, by disclosing the special, most sacred parts of their life. Even if, in a way, one of the people whose trust I would be breaking was actually myself, I still couldn't bring myself to do it. "Anyway," as I later said to my old friend Barry... Barry, who was now almost exclusively called Officer Frost, "that life is over. It's time to pursue this life now."

And I suppose that brings me to today, to the point at which this story must become something else... the point at which I stop telling you the things I know, and begin telling you the things I experience. It is a daunting thing, I must tell you, but life itself is daunting, and I do not fear it as much as I fear the very real possibility that I will never find her again... my saving Grace.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Grace..."

"What did you say, officer?"

Jane snapped to attention, her hand pulling at her earlobe absently as she stared wide eyed at the lieutenant. "Uh... nothing, sir. Sorry. I was reading and..."

"Hmm," Lieutenant Michaels peered over her shoulder at the paperwork. "The Richardson case still?"

"Yes, sir."

Michaels picked up the paperwork and began to read, humming occasionally. "Can I see you in my office, Rizzoli?"

Jane let out a quiet breath. "Of course, sir. Now, or...?"

"Now."

"Right," Jane mumbled, as Michaels walked away, still holding onto the file. She stood up slowly, smoothing down the front of her pants. Man, she hated working in drugs. She couldn't wait to prove herself to the point where she would be promoted to homicide. That was her real passion after all... not that catching criminals who profited from lives being destroyed wasn't satisfying as well, it just wasn't where her real interests lay.

"Hey, Rizzoli."

Jane glanced over as her partner, Dan Matea, tossed over a yellow stress ball. She caught it instinctively, then raised her eyebrow questioningly.

"Squeeze it if he gives you a hard time," Dan winked. "Better to squeeze that than getting fired for squeezing his nuts in an iron vice."

Despite herself, Jane laughed. She tossed the ball back, pointing at the picture on his desk as she did. "Thanks but no thanks. I'll survive; 'least he's not as bad as the last lieutenant. Hey, so how's baby girl going?"

"Mandy?" He picked up the picture of the infant and smiled at the photo fondly. "Beautiful. Keeps her mother up all night, but hey," he grinned wickedly, "I sleep through it all, so I can't complain."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Men."

A loud voice sounded from the back office. "Rizzoli!"

Jane sighed. "I'll say it again. Men!"

Dan sent her a lopsided grin. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Jane replied, her own half smile in place as she whirled around and headed for the lieutenant's office, knocking briskly on the partially closed door.

"Come in."

Opening the door slowly, Jane peered inside. "You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?"

"Yes." Michaels was leaning against the desk, his back to Jane, but she could see he was still holding the file. "This case..." he trailed off, so Jane stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

"The Richardson case, yes sir?"

"I need you to go undercover on this one."

Jane's heart sunk. Her mother was _not_ going to be happy. "Undercover, sir? Is that necessary?"

Michaels whipped around and peered at her closely. "Are you questioning me, Rizzoli?"

"No, sir. No, of course not. I... um..." she headed for the closest seat and sat down, feeling her boss's gaze burning into her, "When do you need me to do this, sir?"

He looked at her intently for a few moments, as though waiting for her to back down, but Jane stared back unblinkingly, her gaze steady and fierce. "Next week," he finally said, with a slight nod of appreciation. "You come to me Friday afternoon and I'll have everything ready for you, understood?"

Jane nodded briskly. "Yes, sir, understood."

He inclined his head slightly, which Jane took as her cue to leave, but the sound of her name being called brought her back. "Rizzoli."

"Yes?" she asked, standing in the doorway with one hand resting lightly on the door frame.

"You're interested in a homicide position, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

He gave her a brief, appraising look, and as Jane stared into his cool blue eyes, she dropped her hand from the door frame and straightened up imperceptibly, silently praying she hadn't dropped any ketchup on her shirt at lunchtime. "This undercover business should only last a week or two. Afterwards, we'll talk."

Jane felt an odd, light sort of sensation in her chest, almost like she could fly, but she kept her face impassive as she nodded at his words. "That sounds good, sir." When Michaels turned his attention to the papers on his desk, Jane slipped out quietly and headed back for her desk, slipping into her chair with her eyes closed, her peaceful state of mind unbroken until Matea let out a loud laugh.

"What happened to you, Rizzoli?"

Jane shook herself and sat up straight, shooting him a frustrated glare. "Nothing. Shut up." But even as she glowered and grumbled to herself about people who couldn't mind their own business, she smiled to herself secretly.

Homicide. _Homicide._ She might not have found Grace yet, but at least one of her dreams was potentially going to be coming true.

_Homicide._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"You've got to be _kidding_ me."

"It's only for a week. Or two."

"Or _two_? I don't..."

"Rizzoli." The tone was a warning one, and Jane immediately stopped talking, the folder in her hand risking becoming crushed in her tight grip.

"I apologize, sir, I just was under the impression that when you said I would be going undercover, that I would be..."

"A dealer, perhaps?" Michaels interrupted, standing up and emerging from behind his desk, the frown on his face intimidating. "A potential buyer? I don't know if you've looked in the mirror lately Rizzoli, but you are, in fact, a _woman,_ which means that any of these things would be entirely unsuitable for you and raise far too many suspicions!"

Jane bristled visibly. "I am well aware that I am a woman, sir."

Lieutenant Michaels sighed heavily, looking down at the ground briefly. "I apologize, Rizzoli. I know that this may be uncomfortable for you. But believe me when I say that it is the only way. You understand that you will never be asked to perform..."

"Sexual favours?" Jane asked with a sigh of resignation. "Sir, I'll be acting as a prostitute. Won't it be seen as suspicious if I never... you know, take on..." she hesitated, struggling to find the right word. Finally, she spat out, "clients?"

"You will of course be seen taking on... clients," Michaels said, also seeming to have difficulty with the word, "but they will be undercover agents that we already have placed there. You will not be at any risk whatsoever. Aside from," he admitted with a slight shrug, "the usual." He looked slightly uncomfortable for a few seconds before continuing. "You have heard of the expression 'buy-bust'?"

"I... yes, sir."

"Many of these prostitutes, aside from selling sex, sell drugs. They sell them to clients, but they also sell them to fellow prostitutes. It will be your job to identify the buyers and the sellers."

"In only a week? Or two?" Jane's tone of incredulity was obvious, and Michaels smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders.

"You are fairly naive to the world of drugs out there, Rizzoli." Jane drew in a sharp breath, but Michaels continued before she could retort. "It's ugly, but once you get down there, it doesn't hide as much as you might think. I don't think it will take very long to flush out the main culprits."

Jane rolled her head around and shrugged her shoulders, attempting to relieve herself of the anxiety and frustration – frustration most of all – that was already building up in her muscles. She ended up with her head tilted almost all the way back, her eyes staring beadily at the ceiling. She expelled a short, sharp breath of air out through her nose and knitted her hands in front of her.

A _hooker._

"Do we have an agreement, Rizzoli?"

"Do I really have a choice?" Jane asked, tilting her head forward just enough so that he could see the mirthless smile on her face.

"No," Michaels said, a wry smile on his face. "Not if you truly want to keep your job."

"Right. Well..." Jane sighed and sat down in one of the chairs, finally opening the folder to have a closer look at the contents, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Michaels had sat back down too, his eyes fixed steadily upon her. She ignored this and concentrated on the folder, skipping over the words that had caused this conversation in the first place (**'Working girl'**) and moved straight onto the other factors of this woman's life... the woman she was going to have to pretend to be. 'Tiffany' was going to be her name, she read. Tiffany Peaches, of all things. "God, with a name like that, a girl wouldn't really have a choice," Jane mumbled. She read through the other information on the case... most of it she already knew through the Richardson case, but it never hurt to be prepared. Finally, she closed the folder and nodded.

"Good," Michaels said, handing her a sheet of paper and a key. "This will be your new address for the next fortnight," he told her, gesturing to the piece of paper that Jane belatedly realized had an address scrawled across it. "It is already furnished... and you will find clothes suitable for your needs in the closet. Matea will be joining you on this undercover mission," Michaels added casually, almost as though it had been an afterthought, but Jane immediately looked up at him and could see the slight trepidation on his face. He had not been looking forward to giving her this information.

"Matea? Are you kidding me? How can you do this... you can't... he has a newborn daughter!" Upon seeing the frown on the lieutenant's face, she quickly added a sulky, "Sir."

"He offered."

Jane gaped.

"He wants to keep you safe, Rizzoli. You're like a sister to him."

"Yeah, and to me, he's an idiot."

"That may be," Michaels laughed slightly, "But he's also a damn fine officer. So do me a favour... don't do anything stupid that will put both of your lives in danger."

Jane frowned. "Why am I the only one who always gets that warning?"

Michaels shook his head and stood up, his arm sweeping out in a gesture to leave. "Maybe, Rizzoli, because you're the one who needs it."

Before she could retort, Jane found herself outside of the Lieutenant's office with the door shut, and she grumbled to herself. When Matea looked up at her questioningly, she pointed an accusing finger at him. "You. You are an idiot."

Matea shrugged. "You can thank me later."

_"__Men!"_ Jane grumbled once more, stalking away.

"Women!" Matea called out after her, laughing. She threw the nearest object at her disposal... an almost empty water bottle, but he ducked it easily. She shook her head again.

Men!

**_END CHAPTER FOUR_**

_In the next chapter, Maura and Jane meet for the first time. I should state now that while this is AU, I will be using some of the stories from the show, and simply adapting them to suit my needs. As always, let me know what you think please. Love to all xoxo -Katie_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The undercover job was nothing more or less than what I had expected, really... the work was, as I thought, dark and degrading. The men who looked us all over before choosing their girl for the night made me feel dirty... and that was only the start. It was truly a glimpse into the underbelly of human society that I will not forget in a long time... but it was, though I did not realize it for a long time... where my story truly began.

You see, even though I was involved in my job, I had not forgotten about Grace. In fact, she consumed almost my every waking thought... but I was sensible enough to not let my desire for her rule my life. I would find her. I _would._ But I wouldn't find her sitting at home, so I might as well make myself useful. My job was important, and I wasn't going to let anyone stop me from doing it.

And ultimately, doing my job led me to her.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane sighed heavily before walking into the coffee shop. This was going to be fun. Stanley, the shop owner, had never liked her and wasn't shy about that fact either. He would be delighted to see her in her current get up... but this was the only coffee shop around that didn't look as though it would give her a disease as soon as she walked in the door. Plus, it wasn't close enough to BPD headquarters to arouse suspicion. Unfortunately, it _was_ reasonably close to Jane's home, which is why she had such an interesting relationship with Stanley... if mutual hatred can be called a 'relationship'. Still... a girl's gotta eat at some point... squaring her shoulders resolutely, Jane pushed open the door and headed for the counter, ignoring the occasional open stare from other customers.

"Hi. I'll have a donut and a coffee," she said, steadfastly ignoring the way Stanley's eyes traversed her body, a smile of pure evil glee lighting up his face. "Please," she added, when it didn't look as though he was moving anytime soon.

"Hmm. And who might we be?"

"_We_ might be a hungry paying customer," Jane snapped, reaching for her wallet and... _shit._ It wasn't there. Looking down at the donuts in the tray and feeling her stomach give an angry gurgle, Jane sighed inwardly. Great, it looked like begging was on the cards for today... as if she didn't feel degraded enough.

"Oh? And what's your name, 'hungry paying customer'?"

"Tiffany..." Jane muttered sulkily.

"Hmm..." Stanley looked her up and down once more, the evil glee still dancing in his eyes, but finally he pushed some buttons on the coffee maker, and pulled an iced donut from the display, setting it on top of a napkin. Jane could feel her mouth filling with saliva as she stared at it. "So, Tiffany... my name is Stanley."

Jane forced a slight grin to her face, feeling disgust roll her insides nauseatingly. "Hi..."

"Hi." He winked, and Jane looked down quickly, the urge to roll her eyes and/or gag almost overbearing, but the impulses still not overcoming the hunger that seemed to be tearing at her insides. "So... that will be $7.20. $2 for the donut, $5.20 for the coffee."

Ignoring the exorbitantly high cost, Jane plastered a winning smile on her face and looked up once more. "Wow, thank you. Um... now, about that paying customer part..." She laid a few coins on the counter – not nearly enough to cover the cost – and looked at Stanley hopefully, but he immediately lost the lecherous smile on his face and reached out, pulling the coffee and the donut away from her grip. Jane watched it go, her stomach letting out a mournful rumble of distress.

"Come on, Stanley, you know I'm good for it," she hissed, mindful of the handful of customers that had lined up behind her, all of them looking at her with varying levels of interest. Not too much interest... she wasn't the first hooker to come in here and she wouldn't be the last... but still, they were staring and she didn't want to draw their attention too much and risk blowing her cover.

"I don't know anything about you," Stanley said loudly, adding with another nasty smile, "Tiffany."

Jane felt a wave of anger wash over her. "Really? $2 for a day-old donut... and it is _bad_ coffee! Please!" Thinking quickly, she added, "Look, I'll get you after my shift."

Stanley let out a loud laugh, and Jane cringed internally. Now, everyone's attention was focused solely on herself and Stanley. Including one nosy looking woman who Jane could see out of the corner of her eye, blatantly looking her up and down... Jane frowned.

"Ha! You think you'll make that much?"

The words took a few seconds to seep into Jane's brain but when they did, her frown deepened and she began shoving the coins back into her handbag as fast as she could. "You know what," she began speaking angrily, "I hope that big Moe tows your Chevy, I hope your crap coffee gives you an ulcer, and you die of psoriasis." She watched with satisfaction as Stanley immediately reached out to push his sleeve down to hide the skin condition, but was quickly distracted when she noticed in her peripheral vision that the woman from earlier was now approaching.

Rich snob, that was Jane's first impression. A rich snob who thought that she could get anything she wanted if she just flashed enough money around, and Jane took the time to give her an incredulous look up and down. "Excuse me," the woman began, and Jane shook her head, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

"You gotta be kidding me. Look, sorry lady, but no matter how high your place in society is, _I_ was first in line. So you're just gonna have to wait."

"Oh... but I..."

Jane threw her hands up in the air impatiently and turned to face the other woman more fully, finally noticing with some appreciation the way her red dress clung to her body. Jane shook it off though... she was hungry, goddamnit, and this woman was _not_ going to cut in front of her. "Look, you can get your non fat latte and dressing free salad in a second, alright?"

A faint pink flush spread over the woman's cheek but she held her chin up high. "I was going to give this to you, actually, so you could pay for your items." Jane glanced down at her hand... a hand that was encased in a blue glove... and noticed it was holding a ten dollar bill. The woman paused ever so briefly, then forged ahead. "Though when you take into consideration that you most likely suffer from a vitamin D deficiency due to your... um..." she faltered slightly, and Jane raised an eyebrow, waiting, "your _night work_... you will find that you would be far better off with a plain yoghurt and some leafy greens."

"I don't need your charity. Or your dietary advice," Jane said shortly, and turned back to Stanley.

"I... I wasn't..." the woman spluttered, before drawing herself up. "There is always room for more kindness in this world. I was simply trying to be nice!"

"Trying to be nice... great..." Jane muttered. "You know what, not every hooker has a heart of gold. So beat it, lady." Turning back to Stanley, she prepared herself once more to beg, but when she saw the look of satisfaction on his face, her resolve crumbled and she found herself glaring at him instead. "Wonder what the health department would say if they found out about your psoriasis, huh?"

"But psoriasis isn't contagious. It's a genetic disease. While it would most certainly not be pleasant to experience, and is... not particularly nice... to look at, there is no danger to the public from a genetic disorder."

Jane rolled her eyes up into her head so hard that it hurt and whirled around to face the woman again. "Is rudeness genetic too?" There was no response other than a tightening of her pretty pink lips.

Jane chanced a peek at Stanley, and noticed his lips curved up once more in a satisfied smirk. Jane growled. "Fine. Fine! Whatever. I'll just go hungry." She stomped to the door and shoved it open. "Like I want to eat your diseased donuts anyway!" she half yelled petulantly, and pushed the door closed as hard as she could, but the door had a pressure gauge on it, so she couldn't even feel satisfied by the sound of it slamming. Stomping away angrily, Jane turned the corner and leant against a wall, sighing deeply and finally sliding down it. What was she going to do now?

The problem was not, she mused, that she was obviously going to have to skip a meal. Skipping meals was no big deal when you worked in the police department and were thoroughly committed to your job. In fact, you got quite used to it. No, the problem was that she had not eaten any food the night before as she'd been too caught up in the undercover assignment, and consequently due to that, had slept far later than she had intended to that day. She hadn't eaten in more than 24 hours, and she was starting to feel lightheaded, but she didn't know anywhere that she could get food for... she counted the money in her handbag... one dollar and fifty five cents. God, she couldn't even get one lousy, stale donut for that amount. She wished she had time to go back to her temporary 'home' and get some money, but there was no way she'd make it there and back in time for her shift to start... not wearing these ridiculous heels, in any case. Maybe if she took them off...

"Hello?"

Jane looked up and immediately squinted as she stared at the woman who was silhouetted by the setting sun. It took her a second to recognise her as the woman from the coffee shop. "Oh. It's you."

"It's me," the woman agreed, crouching down next to Jane, who glanced at the woman's shoes absently and... wow, those had to have even bigger heels than her hooker shoes!

"What do you want, sister? I'm hungry and I'm angry and I'm tired... this does not a good combination make."

"Well..." the woman started, dropping, to Jane's great surprise, down to the floor next to her... she was sitting on her coat admittedly, but Jane was still startled by the move, "you will find that all of those negative emotions will go away after you satisfy your hunger."

Jane let out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah. Well, I can't do that. I'm broke. Remember?"

"I remember." A paper bag appeared on the ground in front of her, seemingly from nowhere and Jane stared at it suspiciously.

"What is that?"

"A gift."

"You give gifts to friends and family, not random strangers."

"Well..." the woman shrugs, "my family don't live in this area and I have no friends, so I suppose you can consider yourself my friend for the day."

"I don't need no friends."

"Any," the woman said, and nudged the paper bag a little bit closer. Jane stared at her in confusion.

"What?"

"Any. You don't need 'any' friends, though I admit I find that hard to believe."

"You do," Jane said flatly, though she now eyed the bag more than the attractive woman sitting next to her.

"Yes, I do. Did you know that a study of older Australians found that those with a large network of friends outlive those with fewer friends by 22%?"

"Did you know that 67.2% of all statistics are made up on the spot?" Jane retorted instantly, her hand twitching towards the bag. The woman eyed her with amusement for a few seconds before picking up the bag and putting it on Jane's lap.

"It's okay. I haven't poisoned it, you know."

Jane opened the bag and her mouth immediately started salivating. Inside was her donut... plus a leafy green salad and a tub of plain yoghurt with what looked like a honey swirl. Jane glanced up curiously. The woman raised one shoulder in a kind of half shrug, looking unapologetic. "It's healthier for you than the donut."

"I trust you won't mind if I eat it all, donut included?" Jane asked, pulling the aforementioned item out and taking a big bite, almost moaning in appreciation as the taste of the sugar exploded across her tongue.

"Of course." The woman watched silently for several minutes as Jane devoured the food ravenously. "I'm Maura, by the way."

"J... Tiffany."

If Maura heard the slip, she didn't let on. She only said lightly, "I know. I heard it inside."

"Right." There was silence for several long minutes as Jane ate, but finally she was spooning the rest of the yoghurt into her mouth and was able to put all her rubbish inside the bag, rolling the top over in her hands. "I guess I owe you now."

Maura shrugged. "What are friends for?"

"I guess..." Jane said, and pushed herself up to a standing position, wobbling gracelessly on her heels for a second until she found her balance once more. Maura stood up much more gracefully, folding her coat over her arm, and as Jane watched her, she suddenly said, "But you forgot my coffee."

Maura smiled suddenly and Jane blinked owlishly at her, overcome by her beauty. She hadn't seen Maura smile till this point, she was now aware and... well, wow. "Yes, well... it _is_ truly terrible coffee. I didn't think you'd mind too much."

Jane grinned. "You've tried it?"

Maura blinked. "I had a small sip of yours. The taste... well, I... I threw it out."

Jane huffed out a laugh, and, just for a moment, allowed her eyes to skate down the wavy honey blonde locks on Maura's head. The soft curls looked so soft... "Why are you in this part of town, anyway?" Jane asked suddenly, taking even herself by surprise by the abruptness of the question.

"Work," Maura replied instantly, almost as though she'd been expecting the question. "My work takes me all around Boston."

"Oh." Jane looked Maura up and down once more. "You look... I mean, you must meet lots of interesting people."

Maura looked down quickly. "Not as many... um... _interesting_... people as you must meet. You, um... you must meet all types, with your... your profession."

Jane blinked, feeling suddenly winded, like she'd been punched in the gut. She was a _hooker_. She was not anywhere near this woman's class, even at the best of times and... really, who the hell did this woman think she was anyway? Did it look like Jane was asking for help? Did it look like she was begging? Worst of all, did it look like she couldn't _help herself_? Did Maura think she was useless, helpless... filled with an anger that she knew was more than a little bit unreasonable, Jane drew herself to her full height and stared at Maura haughtily. "Yes. I certainly do. I thank you for the assistance, Miss, and I assure you that I will pay you back. If you do not feel comfortable leaving your address with a woman of my... _profession_... I'm sure we can arrange an alternative solution."

Maura took a couple of steps backward, her expression hurt. "I... I'm sorry. I... I certainly didn't intend to offend you in any way... I just was saying... that..." she stopped, her brow furrowed in confusion as she stared up at Jane, studying her face intently.

"Yes?" Jane said shortly.

Maura's face changed abruptly. The hurt was still there, but now Jane could see anger and pride there too. "No. No, there is no need to pay me back, I'm sure a woman of your _profession_ needs it far more than I. Let's just call it a case of helping the _needy_, shall we?"

Jane's lips tightened. "Fine."

"Fine." Maura looked at her one last time before tossing her head in an almost petulant way and stalking off.

"Bye!" Jane called sarcastically, then, just after she watched the last of Maura's majestic honey blonde hair whip around the corner, she glanced down at her watch.

_Shit._ Time to go.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

I know that you may think poorly of me for the way I acted when I first met Maura, but you must realize that, not only had I no idea whatsoever that she was actually Grace, _my_ Grace, but I was tired, sore, hungry and humiliated at the time of our first meeting. Yes, the hunger part had been taken care of, thanks to her, but the other feelings were still there, and so I lashed out. But I also had another reason, one far more important... I was also highly committed to my job. Passionate, I believe the word is, and I knew that I could not risk being seen talking to a person like her.

Being _with_ a person like her.

And I knew that if I did this job _right_... that if I did it _well_, I would be moved up to homicide. I was already the first female officer to work in the drug unit, but now I yearned to prove myself even more by becoming the youngest officer ever promoted to the rank of detective... I was ready to prove myself worthy... not just worthy 'for a woman', but worthy beyond anyone's dreams.

I guess there was a part of me that thought that maybe then I would gain _her_ attention. My Grace. The woman she was now.

But, as I later found out, I could not see the forest for the trees...

**_END CHAPTER FIVE_**

_Please let me know what you think. Lots of love xoxo -Katie_


	6. Chapter 6

_To clear up any potential confusion, I would just like to clarify right now that this is set somewhere in the future, around 2030's. I wanted to have kid Jane and Frost have access to Google Earth(as well as other present day technologies), but considering that didn't become available till around 2007, I couldn't stick to time lines of the show. :-)_

_Also, I need to send out a very belated thank you to some very good friends who read the first couple of chapters prior to posting and convinced me not to give up on it. You guys know who you are. Thank you. :-)_

_And I've had a few questions regarding my health: still in constant pain, still no tests to find out what's causing said pain (stupid hospital system), but thank you for thinking of me. Good thing I have Rizzles to keep me happy, right? :-P_

Chapter 6

"Hey, you're back!"

Jane was hunched over her desk, rubbing her eyes tiredly when the voice startled her and she quickly turned around. "Oh, hey Frost."

"Hey yourself. So? How'd it go?" The barely concealed excitement, glee and curiousity in his voice was almost palpable, and Jane rolled her eyes affectionately before responding.

"See, Frost, this is why you've never been allowed to go undercover. You think of it like a game, when it isn't."

"I don't think of it like a game!" Frost replied, his back straightening as he frowned in discomfit. "I just... it's just thrilling, you know? The idea of being there... in the thick of things..."

Jane threw her head back and groaned out loud before sitting up and piercing Frost with a steely gaze. "This is why people say that women mature faster than men, I get it. No, Frost. It's not thrilling. It's not like a video game where it doesn't really matter. It's terrifying. One wrong move and you get gunned down, you know? It was humiliating, it was degrading... it was _uncomfortable_!" Jane lifted her foot up and massaged the still aching sole. Damn those hooker heels! "Not one part of it was thrilling, and honestly, I hope you never have to experience it."

Looking thoroughly downtrodden, Frost grabbed a nearby chair and straddled it backwards. "So... this is the last time then? You wouldn't do it again?"

"I'd do it in a heartbeat, if I had to."

"But..." Frost frowned, "you just said..."

Jane shook her head. "None of that matters when it comes down to it. I'm a cop, and I will do anything in my power to make Boston a safer place to live."

"You're a damn good cop too," Frost said, and Jane smiled at him in gratitude. "Hey," he added, grabbing a blonde wig that had, for some unknown reason, been sitting on a cop's desk since before Jane went undercover, and pulled it over his own head, batting his eyelashes ridiculously, "how'd you think I'd go as a hooker?"

Jane felt her lips twitching uncontrollably. "I think..." she managed to get out with great difficulty, "that you'd be going hungry."

"Really? Some bright blue eyeshadow... pink lipstick... I think I could pull it off. What do you reckon?"

Jane couldn't help it anymore, she started laughing. "Really? Well, I think you _should_ pull it off..." she reached out and yanked the wig off Frost's head. "See? Much better."

"Spoilsport..." he muttered, but jumped guiltily when the lieutenant's voice rang out across the bullpen. "Whoops. That's my cue to leave."

"See you later," Jane whispered, just as Michaels called out 'Rizzoli!' again. Jane sighed and stood up, stretching slightly to try to alleviate the bone deep ache all over her body. It helped – marginally – so she let out another deep breath and slowly headed towards the back office to where Michaels stood in the doorway, waiting. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. What are you doing here, Rizzoli?"

Jane blinked. She had been told her assignment was over... she had gotten all the necessary information and compiled the report, leaving it in Michaels' in tray... she simply couldn't think of any reason why she shouldn't be there, or any other place she should be at. Realizing she'd been staring blankly for several long seconds, Jane cleared her throat. "Um, well, my undercover assignment is over and..."

"And?" Michaels raised an eyebrow. "I expected you to be at home resting. You've had a trying couple of weeks, officer."

"I... yes, but I thought... maybe you'd want to discuss the report with me, or..."

Michaels let out a booming laugh and went inside his office, leaving the door open as a clear invitation for Jane to follow behind. She did so slowly... she didn't think she had ever heard her lieutenant laugh like that, and she wasn't sure what she'd said that was so funny. "Sir?"

"You're a good officer, Rizzoli," he said, sitting behind his desk and picking up a pen. "One of the best in the drug unit."

"I... uh, thank you," Jane replied cautiously, slowly lowering herself into one of the chairs in front of his desk, adding a few beats later, "sir."

"Yes. One of the best. Possibly _the_ best." Michaels tapped his pen thoughtfully against his teeth, surveying Jane with deep interest. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly wishing she was still standing up.

"Thank you," she repeated when it seemed like Michaels was going to say nothing further, and when he didn't say anything for long seconds after that, she began to wonder if she should just excuse herself and go home. Michaels had not anticipated her return to work quite so soon after all, and she _was_ rather tired...

More to avoid the piercing gaze still being levelled at her by those unnerving blue eyes, Jane began to look around the office. It was rather nice, she had to admit: lovely dark wood panelling, the big desk, the huge cushy chair. But, looking at his large stack of paperwork, she knew that she was where she belonged. She wasn't cut out for sitting behind a desk all day. She needed to be out there, doing her job, protecting the streets. That was what made her happy. It didn't make her _mother_ happy, but, really, what did?

"Finding a husband..." Jane muttered.

"What was that, Rizzoli?"

Jane started. "Oh. Nothing. Sorry. I was, uh... thinking aloud."

His gaze narrowed slightly, but he nodded and continued to watch her closely, steeping his fingers under his chin, and Jane let her mind wander again. A husband... what if Grace had come back not as a woman, but as a man? It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed Jane's mind, but it was the first time that the thought had lingered. It was possible, Jane supposed... but then, she was only attracted to women... at least, that was her experience thus far. Surely God (or whoever) wouldn't be so cruel as to send she, Jane, back as a gay woman, then send Grace back as a straight (or gay) man. That wouldn't happen, surely... right?

"So, Rizzoli... you want to work in homicide?"

The voice startled Jane once more and she rubbed at her eyes tiredly, realizing for the first time how exhausted she must really be for allowing her mind to drift so far from the current conversation. "I... yes, sir."

"Why?" The question was asked frankly and Jane stared for a few seconds.

"I... 'why'?"

"Yes. _Why_ do you wish to work in homicide?"

"I..." Jane rubbed her eyes once more, wishing the deep burning would just go away, "I just want to help people. I want to see justice brought to those people whose lives were cut short. I want... I want to make the world a better place. I want to help the victims and their families receive some sort of closure, and I want to... to feel like I... like I..." Jane floundered, finally finishing lamely, "matter." Almost instantly, she cringed. To her ears, her speech sounded like one for a beauty pageant... all promises, no gumption. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her gaze to meet the lieutenant's, and was surprised to see his lips turned up at the corners. He was smiling.

"Take the rest of the week off."

Jane blinked. "What?"

"Take the rest of the week off. Get some sleep, but I also expect you to study hard."

"Study?" Jane's brow furrowed. "For... what, a biology test?" She raised her eyebrows sardonically, only remembering to add later, "Sir."

Michaels, however, only smiled. "For the detective's exam, Rizzoli. You'll be taking it on Monday."

It was an odd sort of feeling that welled up inside Jane at these words. It was like a buzzing in her brain and in her ears, springs had been attached to the balls of her feet, and her very bones had turned into an almost jelly like state. "Detective's exam?" she repeated weakly. "Are you... are you serious?"

"Yes, indeed I am, Rizzoli. And..." he tapped his nose, leaning in closer. Jane leant in closer too, though she wasn't sure why, "I have it on good authority that a position in homicide may be opening up soon." He nodded at her. "So study hard. I just may decide that you're the best person for the job."

"Me?" Jane vaguely wondered when her voice had become so squeaky, but it hardly seemed important when Michaels was smiling at her so.

"No guarantees."

"Of course not... but..."

"So I'll see you on Monday." The voice was final, and Jane recognized the abrupt dismissal... she stood up slowly, hardly aware of what to do with her arms. She wanted to leap and run and scream... yet she also wanted to just curl up in a ball and replay the conversation in her head over and over again. She headed towards the door, still moving at what felt like glacial speed, but turned around when she reached the doorway.

"Sir?"

She waited until Michaels looked up from the papers that he already seemed immersed in.

"I just... I wanted to..." she sighed heavily. "Thank you."

He looked at her shrewdly once more, then nodded once. "You're welcome. You know, I heard what you said to Officer Frost out there... about making Boston a safer place." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "You do a damn good job already of that. I can't wait to see what else you're capable of."

Jane felt lighter than a feather as she absorbed the praise. "Thank you, sir."

She turned to leave, but faltered when she heard her name once more.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"You might want to tell Frost that blonde isn't _quite_ his colour... but I'm happy to get a black wig should he wish to go undercover as a drag queen."

Jane felt a huge grin break out across her face. "I will most _definitely_ let him know, sir."

"Good job, Rizzoli. Good job."

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"A _detective?_ Oh Janey..."

"Ma, this is an honour," Jane retorted, piling up the necessary books in her hands, balancing them precariously. "If I achieve this, I will be the youngest person _ever_ to be promoted to the rank of detective. Do you get that, Ma? Not just the youngest _woman_, the youngest _person_."

Angela Rizzoli followed Jane as she toed the door open with difficulty and headed out to her bomb of a car. _God,_ Jane couldn't wait until she became a detective and got given a police car to drive. This one was pretty close to being on its last legs.

Though, considering the fact that she bought it at age 17 for only $1200, she supposed the only surprise was that it had lasted _this_ long.

"Oh, but Janey... a _detective..."_

Jane rolled her eyes and balanced her books carefully on her hip, tugging open the back door with a small grunt of effort (it always got stuck), and throwing the books on the backseat, turning to her mother. "Yes, Ma. A detective. You know, the thing I have been working towards my whole adult life?"

"I don't mean to nag..." Angela began, wringing her hands as she spoke. Jane barely suppressed another eye roll.

"Yes, you do..." she muttered, but Angela continued as though she had not heard.

"...but it's such a _dangerous_ job, being in the police force... I mean, wouldn't you be much happier if you could just meet a nice man... settle down, get married, have a couple of kids..."

"Well, you know I've never been one for the 'white picket fence' type of life," Jane told her, walking around to the driver's door and opening it. She put one leg inside the car but still remained upright, looking over at her worried mother. "Being a police officer makes me happy, Ma. Don't you want that for me? For me to be happy?"

"Oh, of course I want you to be happy... but can't you see that you could be happy being someone's wife too?"

"No, Ma. No." Jane hopped in the car and shut the door with a resounding 'bang', watching resignedly as Angela hurried around and leant down to look in the driver's window. "Being someone's wife, _only_ someone's wife... you know, that might be some women's fantasy. It's not mine. I just..." Jane banged her hand down on the steering wheel in frustration, "I just want to make the world a little bit safer. I want to do something that matters."

"Making your husband happy matters!" Angela asked, and Jane sighed, hearing the desperation in her mother's voice.

"It's not the only thing that matters."

There was silence for a few seconds and Jane slowly lifted her gaze from her lap to look into her mother's eyes. They stared back, open and loving, and Jane sighed heavily once more.

"Ma... what would you say if I said that having a husband doesn't interest me at all?"

"Oh Jane, you keep saying that, but I know you'd enjoy being a wife if..."

"No Ma. No. I'm not saying that I will never be a wife." Suddenly finding herself lacking courage, Jane's gaze once more fell to her white knuckled hold on the steering wheel. "In fact," she went on, a slight quiver to her voice, "I very much hope I _will_ be a wife one day. I just..." she hesitated, taking another deep breath, and brought her eyes to her mother's again, careful to place special emphasis on the last word in her sentence, "I just have no interest in having a _husband._"

The look on Angela's face, Jane mused, would almost be comical if not for Jane's own almost crippling fear of the reaction to her words. It was not, she thought, that she worried that Angela would cease to love her... if anything, Jane could imagine her walking in the Gay Pride parades with signs loudly announcing her pride in Jane's sexuality... it was just that fear, that doubt that perhaps she would respond in the unthinkable ways... that she would somehow manage to stop loving Jane... that was what was almost crippling.

Angela's face, meanwhile, had been going through a whirlwind of portrayed emotions. First, there was confusion – had she truly heard what she thought she had heard? – then a slowly rising understanding – yes she had, and yes, it meant what she thought it did. Next, there was understanding – so that was why Jane always refuted every man Angela had offered her! – and then confusion once more – because why had Jane never told her before now? Jane watched all these emotions and many more make their way across Angela's features in less than 5 seconds, her own lips turned up in an amused smile as she correctly interpreted each look to the thought that accompanied it. She knew so much about her mother... why then, did she not know how she would react? Why, when she was so sure of her mother's love, did she fear this revelation, and the reaction it would bring?

The silence seemed to stretch on an indeterminate amount, but finally, Angela spoke. "I love you, Janey," she whispered, and Jane breathed out a breath she did not realize she had been holding. "I always have and I always will."

A thin, pale hand crept in the window, and Jane gripped it tightly, feeling the familiar calluses and wrinkles, tracing the familiar digits. She finally brought the hand to her mouth, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it uncharacteristically. "I love you too, Ma. I love you too."

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane sighed, throwing her book down on the bed with a barely muffled groan as she pressed the phone to her ear. She should have known it wouldn't be this easy.

"Ma... Ma... I... Ma!"

"What?" The voice sounded irritable, as though frustrated at the interruption even though Jane had tried to speak several times during a brief pause, only to get cut off once her mother got a lungful of air again.

"You said you loved me." Jane sat on the bed next to the book and looked at it mournfully. She really needed to be studying, not listening to her mother.

"I _do_ love you Janey. I always will. I just think that... you know, there are _options._ You don't _have_ to be gay. You can join the local Catholic church and..."

Jane raised her eyes and stared at the far wall in disbelief. "You are not seriously about to suggest I pray the gay away, are you?"

There was a brief hesitation and Jane rolled her eyes. Only her mother...

"Well... no, sweetie, of course not, I just..."

Jane picked up the book again, plopping it on her lap and looked down at it, beginning to thumb through the pages blindly just to have something to do with her hands. "Do you remember when I was little, Ma?"

"I... well... of course I do!" Angela sounded taken aback by the seemingly random subject change.

"Do you remember what I used to talk about all the time?"

There was a long pause. Jane lifted her gaze once more, letting her eyes drift shut, imagining her mother. She'd be sitting at the table, Jane thought, their old wooden one that was so heavy, it took four men to lift it, and she'd be doing something with her hands. Doodling on a random piece of paper perhaps, but it was far more likely that she'd be patching Frank's socks, or fixing a pocket on a shirt, or making out a shopping list. Angela was rarely if ever idle, and often attempted to do two things at once. This, of course, usually meant that the socks were darned improperly, the pockets sewn on crooked, and a half dozen items missing off the shopping list, but still she continued. Right now though, Jane thought, she would have stopped, her face set in an expression of confusion that would rapidly change into understanding as she thought about what Jane was talking about. Then, Jane contemplated, her expression would probably settle into a bizarre mixture of uncertainty and parental knowledge. She would be uncertain about what she was going to say, but sure that she was right all along... that Jane had simply been a child with a wildly versatile imagination.

"I used to talk about," Jane said, not giving her mother a chance to speak, "about a past life. I told you..."

"Jane..." Angela said softly, but Jane forged ahead.

"... that my name was Elizabeth, and my nickname was Beatie."

"Yes, Jane, but..."

Jane spoke louder, cutting her mother off. "And I told you about Grace."

"You had a... a very vivid imagination!" Angela spoke desperately, her words almost running together in her haste to get them out.

"Do you remember..." Jane realized that she was almost tearing the pages in the book she was holding, and hastily put it down, picking up a box of tissues instead and started tearing them into small shreds, "after I finished police academy?"

"You... you went on a little holiday."

"I went to Tockner Valley, Ma."

"W-where?" Angela's voice sounded very small and uncertain, and Jane sighed heavily. She looked down into her lap where she had already created a small snow storm of destroyed tissues.

"It's..." she paused, taking a deep breath, "it's the place where Elizabeth 'Beatie' Mills and Grace Henderson used to live."

There was a very long silence after this, so long that it gave Jane time to shred 3 more tissues into small squares. Finally, "They existed?" The voice was so quiet that Jane almost missed it, but yet it still startled her enough that she almost dropped the phone. Quickly grabbing it and placing it securely between her ear and shoulder once more, Jane nodded into the phone, forgetting her mother couldn't see her. "You found her." It wasn't a question, and Jane bit her lip.

"Yes," she answered needlessly. "I... I know they existed. I... I remembered. I remembered parts of their lives, things I couldn't possibly know, Ma." Her tone had become almost pleading, and her eyes slipped shut again. "I saw pictures. Their house was blue. I remembered when they... we... met... she called me an idiot for jumping in the water. Grace died in the year 2001. She was 84 years old. I di..." Jane shook her head, tried again, "I mean, _Beatie_ died in the year 2000. I... I remember it all, Ma." Jane let out a quick mirthless laugh. "Well, I remember most of it."

"They existed," Angela repeated, her voice softer still. "You talked about them... about her... all the time. And I thought... I thought it was just your imagination, I told myself you were so clever, and..."

"It's real, Ma. It's real." Jane stood up, not paying any attention to the white mess she sent flying across her room. "I remembered so much while I was there. So much. And I know that I came back to find her again. I _need_ to find her again."

The sound of quiet breathing filled the line, and Jane began pacing.

"I remembered our first kiss, Ma. Beatie's and Grace's first kiss. It was... amazing. Unbelievable. Don't you see? Me being gay... it has nothing to do with you, nothing to do with how I was raised..." Jane had reached the bed again in her pacings and turned to flop down on it. "It's who I am. It's who we are. Me and Grace... whoever she is now. We were meant to be, I know it."

There was silence, and Jane frowned quizzically, pulling the phone away to glance at it before bringing it back to her ear again.

"Ma?"

There was a soft click.

**_END CHAPTER SIX_**

_Thoughts?_

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	7. Chapter 7

_Note: while I have done a little bit of research and use actual street names and areas, etc, I have no clue as to the crime rate in said areas. Just please keep in mind that this is a piece of fiction and no harm is intended. :-)_

_Also, just as a personal side note, I am pretty proud of myself. I told my mum this past weekend that I am gay. She told me that it changes nothing and she loves me no matter what. I can't explain how I feel at the moment, except that it still feels very surreal. But I am very happy. :-)_

Chapter Seven

Maura Isles sighed heavily as she looked around her almost bare apartment. Bare; that is, except for the boxes that lined almost every wall, the contents of each box carefully printed in her own neat handwriting on the side of the cardboard. It was funny, she mused, how quickly one's life can be collated, boxed up, and shipped away by strangers. All these things, the things you collect to sum up your life... what do they mean to a stranger? That plastic cup you owned with a big crack in it that your friend gave to you during a time in your life when you actually had friends... to a stranger, it is nothing but rubbish. They would look at it with curiousity perhaps, wonder why a person would keep it and wrap it so carefully as though it were made of delicate glass... but they would never understand. They would never understand how it gave Maura a fleeting sense of belonging, a feeling that was so rare and so yearned for, she held tightly on to anything that gave her that feeling.

Because the truth was, Maura Isles had never felt like she truly belonged.

Isles was her adoptive name, Maura her name from birth. It was the only thing that she knew came from her birth mother, and she guarded it jealously. It was not a name that was easily shortened, for which she was grateful... she often dreamed that she would be walking someday, perhaps in a mall, perhaps just out for a stroll, and a friend would see her, call out her name. Her birth mother would be standing there, and she would turn at the sound of her daughter's name... she would look at Maura, and she'd hold her arms out...

Maura shook her head. Silly. Silly fantasies. While she was aware that a certain level of imagination and fantasy was important for overall brain health, she always tried to stop herself from having such imaginings. But still, she couldn't help but be glad for her name of 'Maura'. If it was a name like 'Elizabeth' for example... why, people could call her all types of names. 'Eliza', 'Liz', 'Beth'... and if her birth mother heard those yelled out on the street, would she be likely to turn her head? No. Maura thought not.

"Maura..." she whispered.

"Miss?"

Maura started and turned around abruptly, staring at the wideset man in her doorway with wide eyes. It took her several long seconds to realize that he was the man who was moving her furniture... one of them anyway... and when she did finally realize, she shook her head and blinked her eyes rapidly. "Sorry," she apologized softly. "I was lost in thought."

"You looked a million miles away," the guy (John? Don? Ron?) replied with a good natured smile. "So, this the last of 'em? The boxes, I mean?"

"I... yes. Yes, I believe this is all."

"Righty-o then." John/Don/Ron pulled his trolley into the room and began loading boxes onto it. Maura watched him for a little while, then headed over to her window seat, sitting down on it and staring out it at the city below. She could hear him moving busily behind her and shut her eyes sadly, resting her head against the glass. The coolness of the window felt nice against her heated skin, and she let out a slow breath, trying to prepare herself for what lay ahead.

It was probably a fruitless attempt, as she had been to prepare herself for weeks, but when you are walking into the relatively unknown...

"Sad to be leaving, huh?"

Startled once more, Maura jumped a bit and turned to look at John/Don/Ron. "I'm sorry?"

"You. I don't mean to be rude... but you looked a bit sad." John (she could see his name tag now he was facing her) pulled his cap off and scrubbed at his wiry black hair anxiously.

"Sad?" she asked, and looked out the window again. "No. Not sad. At least... that is not the only emotion I am currently experiencing."

"It's hard, you know. I get it. I moved from Texas to here... oh, it would have been about 8, 9 years ago now. And I don't mind telling you, I got mighty homesick for the first month or so. But I settled in, and you will too."

"I'm glad to be leaving." Maura's voice was soft, and, even though she didn't look, she could feel the hesitation and confusion radiating from the man behind her. How was it, she wondered, that she struggled so much with social interactions, yet she could so easily tell how other people were feeling at any given time? How was that fair?

"I... oh. Um..."

Maura lifted her chin and turned to face him once more. "I do ask that you please be careful with the box at the far end of the room. It contains some items that are very precious to me. They have been carefully wrapped, but one can never be too careful."

John straightened up instantly, a wave of relief washing over his face at the subject change back into what he seemed to deem as 'safe' territory. "Certainly miss... however, maybe you might want to think about taking that one with you in your car. We do our best, of course, and we are fully insured, but if these items are of a sentimental nature..."

"No. No, they will be fine with you."

John stopped once more, his eyebrow lifting slightly as he surveyed Maura curiously. Finally, though, she was grateful to see, he simply chose to incline his head obediently, taking the loaded up trolley out of the room and leaving her to her thoughts.

It was a troubling place to be left.

The problem was, Maura mused, the same as it ever was. She never felt like she belonged. And there was nothing... no proof, no scientific data... that told her that this feeling would be any better when she moved to Boston. Nothing... except a strange rumbling in her gut, almost like a tug, that she had begun feeling the very second she became aware of the potential job opening in Boston, and that feeling had grown ever stronger in the weeks since. It was a 'gut feeling', as her old school boyfriend Garrett would have said; a concept that Maura had scoffed at, at the time. 'My guts do not have feelings,' she had declared vehemently, 'feelings are created by hormones and neurotransmitters in the brain. _Not_ anywhere around my pelvic, periumbilical or epigastric regions.'

Garrett had simply rolled his eyes fondly, she recalled now. 'You'll see one day, Maura' he'd said, and now she thought she understood. If a 'gut feeling' could be known as an overwhelming certainty with no quantifiable evidence to support said belief, then perhaps Maura was experiencing her first ever feeling that originated from her intestines.

It was utterly terrifying.

With a deep sigh, Maura stood up and looked around the bare room once more, spinning slowly in place as she stared at all the blank walls, free now from her pictures and her masks. Finally, her gaze fell back on the window and she took one step closer, leaning against the seat with one hand and stretching out with the other hand to reach the window, cracking it open to feel a cool breeze against her heated face.

It was quiet here, just as Maura liked it. There were not too many people, the work, while slow, was suitable to keep her attention focused... so why, _why_ was she moving to the busy area of Boston, Massachusetts? It was certainly a way to move up within her field of employment... and that was important to her... but there would be other opportunities to step into a role of equal importance, equal responsibility in an area that was quieter, more suited to Maura. More suited to her personality, her quirks...

But again, it was that strange pull that led her to Boston, that bizarre sensation that she had so much trouble coming to terms with, even to herself. She felt like she was meant to go there. In a way, she supposed, it was like she was going home... not that she remembered ever living there.

Maura was adopted. Her mother had been working at the Boston University, her father employed in overseas business ventures when she came into their lives and, for a long time, Maura wondered if they had truly wanted her. They had always been so busy as she was growing up, and had so little time for her, that it was a question Maura pondered often. It wasn't that they didn't love her, because Maura was certain that they did, even if they had trouble showing it. It was just that she never seemed to _fit in_... not with other children, not with adults... not even within her own family. Even as a toddler, Maura had been different. She had no memories of that time, of course, but looking back through family albums painted a pretty clear picture for her. She was always with a nanny or caregiver of some kind, and when in some kind of playgroup, she stood apart from the rest of the children. She was more intelligent than they were, certainly – she could read up to 50 words by the age of 3 – but it was more than that. She just didn't know how to _be_ with other people. She didn't know how to act, what to say. As a toddler, she had preferred sitting apart from the other children, engaging in her own quiet activity. If another child came up to attempt to initiate some sort of contact, Maura had tolerated it, but moved away very quickly.

When she was 4, her parents decided that moving to Europe was really the best thing for Richard's business (Maura's father), and there Maura learnt to speak French, Italian, and Croatian. It did not help her to communicate any easier with her peers though – as she got older and her intelligence grew, she only seemed to ostracize herself further with every word she spoke, and, despite all her book smarts, she never could understand why. _Why_ weren't her peers interested in the same things she was? Didn't they want to know about the effects of applying electricity to the muscles of a dead frog? Could they not understand how utterly fascinating it was that you could look at a person's stomach contents after they died and know precisely what their last meal was? No, Maura could never understand, but, with the help of a well-meaning nanny, she began to filter these natural impulses to talk about her interests, and even developed an unlikely friendship with a girl in her school. Maura was 12. Molly, her new friend, was 14. She smoked, she drank, and she was 'cool', and slowly, Maura fell into her circle of friends. She resisted every impulse to talk about her interests, and she did not tell Molly about the dangers of smoking and drinking, even though she worried about her, but gradually, Maura began to feel like she was fitting in.

And then Constance found out.

While she was not exactly the maternal type of mother that Maura had always secretly dreamed of, she was still very protective, and to save her daughter from what she termed as 'the teenage hoodlum', she shipped Maura off to private school in France. It was not so far away from home, after all, only a 3 hour drive, but when you are a young not-quite-teenage girl, it felt like a lifetime. Much to her surprise, however, she found that when she inadvertently went off on a tangent about the fascinating facets of the human body, she actually had a captive audience. It was only 2 other students, mind you, but it was enough for the affection and attention starved Maura. She happily spoke to them for hours, writing things down, and answering their questions. It was only much later that she realized that they had only been talking to her because they had a human biology paper due, and it was far easier to talk to her, Maura the Bore-a (and why, _how_, had that horrid nickname followed her here), than research it themselves.

After this, Maura discovered one of her boarding schools specialties... horses. What a relief it was to be able to talk without feeling the need to censor herself, to a creature that would not make fun of her, would not use her for its own advantage, and would not abandon her. She felt a sense of belonging. But that feeling led to other questions in her mind: who were her biological parents? And why didn't they want her? She had known from a very young age that she was adopted... her parents never tried to hide it from her. When she asked them questions, however, all they would or could say was that the records were sealed. 'You came to us with the name Maura', her mother had told her, 'and that's all I know'. She never looked at Maura when she spoke though, so Maura always wondered.

The years passed, and finally, at age 16 and in her second last year at boarding school, she began to make enquiries as to her blood relations. The search was fruitless though; as Constance and Richard had told her, the records were sealed and nothing but a court order from her biological mother would open them. She, Maura, the child, had no rights to this information. Maura was nothing if not persistent, though, and she continued secretly trying (she did not wish her parents to know of her increasing desperation) to gain access to the information right through college and university, but all were useless attempts. It seemed that Maura was never to know who her blood relations really were.

She was never going to know where she truly belonged.

"Miss Isles? I think that's everything now."

Maura started and turned around, once more surveying the man who had just effortlessly helped to pack up her entire life and put it inside his truck. "Thank you," she finally said quietly, realizing she had been quiet for too long. She did not bother to correct the title. 'Doctor' seemed far too formal at present time anyway.

"That's all right, Miss." He looked at her expectantly and Maura stared back in confusion, finally smiling sheepishly when she realized what he wanted.

"Oh, my apologies," she said, stepping forward and pulling the money out of her pocket that she had so carefully organised earlier. "Here. One third your payment, as agreed, the final two thirds to be paid in Boston"

"Thank you." John took the money and pocketed it, surveying her with what she could only term as concern. "Are you sure you're going to be alright, Miss? We're not going to get to Boston for another four or five days... what will you do in the meantime?"

She smiled slightly. "It's quite alright, thank you. I've already organised everything. I will stay in a hotel until you arrive."

John nodded, still looking at her curiously. "Expensive move."

"Yes, it is quite expensive to move halfway across the country."

"No, I just mean..." he stopped, shook his head. "Well, it's none of my business, anyway."

She looked at him steadily, and he blinked, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"You, uh," he suddenly blurted, "you remember what I said? About feeling homesick? It won't last long."

"I've no doubt of that," she replied, turning back to the window. "I've never had a home to be sick for."

She ignored his stare, and waited till the sound of his footsteps, faltering at first then more confident, faded away before she rested her head on the glass again.

Boston.

_I'm going to my home._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Boston was noisy, crowded, polluted and busy. It was everything Maura hated... and yet, so far, she had really enjoyed her time here. Granted, she'd only been there for three days – John would arrive with his men and her furniture tomorrow – but up to that point, Maura liked it. She had been to her new place of employment, and met her members of staff – all of whom seemed lovely and eager to work – and tomorrow she would be meeting the governor to discuss her job responsibilities, as well as arranging to meet the other medical examiners in the Massachusetts area. This was the part that Maura looked forward to the most, because, despite all her past experiences with colleagues and peers, she couldn't help but hope she would be able to find a friend – a _real_ friend – among the like-minded people in the medical examiner field. She hoped that this person would listen to her excitable and passionate monologues about various topics of interest, and would perhaps indulge Maura by providing a few fun facts of his or her own. This person, she was sure, would be intelligent, patient, gentle and kind.

Maura smiled. Yes. This move to Boston... she felt sure that it was the best move she could have made.

"Hmm, where do I..." Maura mumbled to herself, looking down at the map in her hands. The previous day, when talking to her colleagues, a particularly eager one had begun educating her on the finer – and lesser – parts of Boston.

_"You'll be sent lots of places," 'Susie' told her, her eyes alight with excitement, "so you'll probably want to start getting to know Boston now, before you actually start work. You don't want to get a phone call about a body on Bowdoin Street in Dorchester, and end up being the last one to arrive because you got lost."_

_Maura, remembering vividly incidents where she had been stared at and even mocked during her school years, readily agreed. "Oh. Yes, well, that does seem quite sensible. Where would you suggest?"_

_"Hmm, I think that areas with a high crime rate are ones that you will definitely need to become familiar with. Obviously, though, if you go exploring, you'll need to take sensible precautions. You know, you may need to..." Susie's dark eyes looked Maura up and down nervously, "dress down a little. Not that you don't look great!" she hurriedly added, eyes wide with earnestness, "But... you know... it might be... uh..."_

_"Sensible," Maura prompted, with a kind smile, and Susie nodded, sighing in appreciation._

_"Exactly. I'll, um... I'll write down some areas that you'll probably want to familiarise yourself with first..."_

'William J Day Blvd' was written in Susie's careful print, and Maura glanced up at a street sign as she signalled the driver to pull up to a stop. This was the street alright... now why had Susie recommended she come here? Maura pulled out the piece of paper once more and glanced at it... next to the shortened 'Blvd', Susie had printed 'high drug and prostitution area'. Maura glanced up cautiously. It was nearing evening – the sky had begun to gain the beginning colours of sunset – but she could not see any immediate risk to her own safety at present... but she could see a coffee shop. Her mouth suddenly salivating, she asked the driver to wait for her, took her handbag, and headed into the store.

"...your name, 'hungry paying customer?"

Maura blinked, first looking at the man behind the counter – who appeared to suffer from a rather disfiguring case of psoriasis (that was present on his arms at least) – then she looked at the person he was talking to.

"Tiffany."

_Oh._

**_END CHAPTER SEVEN_**

_Thoughts?_

_Love to all xoxo -Katie_


	8. Chapter 8

_I love love love all the reviews, so thank you so much and keep them coming please! I love hearing your thoughts and theories too. Please forgive me when I don't reply... I don't wish to give away too much. :-) Also thank you so much for all the love about my coming out process. I told one of the girls at work (in response to the question: 'how was your weekend?' that I came out of the closet and she was like 'um... what do you mean?' LOL. I really am quite a private person so I guess it will come as quite a shock to most!_

_Quick note: this is the point where chapter updates will be not as frequent. I will definitely try to get one a week up (and when I say 'try', I mean the only thing stopping me will be something major) and sometimes I might be able to manage 2 updates in a week... but as the chapters in this story are longer than 'Doctor and Patient', it takes a bit longer to write them. Understandably. :-P So please be patient with me. :-)_

Chapter 8

"Jane! _Jane!_"

Jane sighed and stopped, letting her brother catch up with her. "Aren't you supposed to be at the academy? You don't work here yet, remember?"

"Yeah, but this is more important." Frankie stopped, panting, and held onto his side. She surveyed him with little sympathy.

"Well, this was great, but if that's all..."

"_Jane!_" he quickly inserted, his brow furrowing in frustration.

"What?" Jane hissed, her patience at an all time low. "Frankie, I actually have a job that I need to get to, so if this isn't important, then..."

"Why haven't you returned her phone calls?"

Jane stopped mid word and stared, her heart sinking like a stone in her chest. "Whose phone calls?"

Frankie glared. "You know who."

Jane sighed and looked up past Frankie, up the stairs to the Boston Police Department. "Frankie, I..."

"She's desperate, Jane! You don't know what it's like, you don't live there anymore..."

"Thank God."

Frankie continued as though he hadn't heard her, "and she is so _worried_. She won't shut up, it's driving me insane: 'why hasn't Jane called yet', 'have you heard from Jane', 'do you think Jane's okay', 'Jane', 'Jane', _'__Jane'_!"

Jane felt her lips pursing and without warning, she grabbed Frankie's collar and yanked him away, pulling him away from the entrance of the station. "_She_ was the one who hung up on _me_, alright?"

Frankie rubbed his neck dramatically as he glared right back at her. "I _know_ that, believe me, I know... but she feels terrible about it."

"_She_ feels terrible?! Well, that's just great. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic."

Rubbing at his head tiredly, Frankie spoke in a softer voice, "You have to understand what it sounds like, Jane. First, you come out as a lesbian... no big deal, anyone who'd been paying attention would have figured it out years ago, but it's Ma, so, okay, kind of a big deal to her. Then, you begin talking about something that you _stopped_ talking about a long time ago. _Past lives._ You tell her that your whole reason for being here... your whole purpose for coming back to earth... is to find your past lesbian lover. I mean, it's kind of a lot to take in."

"That's not exactly what I said."

"But it's how she took it. Jane... I mean, do you have any idea how c..." he cut himself off, but Jane looked up at him, eyes flashing.

"Crazy? Is that what you were going to say, how _crazy_ it sounds? I _know_ how crazy it sounds, Frankie. But it's my whole fucking life. My whole life, I've had these memories, known these things I shouldn't have known... what, does she expect me to just ignore it?"

"No." Frankie looked at Jane steadily for several seconds before dropping his gaze and sighing heavily, running a hand through his hair before looking up at her once more. "It's just... it's a lot to take in, okay? She wants to believe you. She _does_ believe you... she's just... she just has to adjust, you know?"

Jane flicked a piece of hair out of her eyes and breathed out slowly, licking her lips as she thought hard. "I've been... I mean, I tried to tell her..."

"You tried to tell her as a _kid_, Jane." Frankie approached and tentatively reached out for her hand. Jane frowned, but let him take it, her eyes focused on the sleeve of his shirt as he spoke. "How about you try telling her as an adult, huh?"

Jane let her gaze flick up to his, then away. Pulling her hand out of his, she settled both hands on her hips and looked over her shoulder, towards the entrance of the station. "Look, I can't talk about this now. I need to get inside, I have..."

"Your detective exam, I know." Jane immediately turned back to look at him. He shrugged. "Ma told me. She's very proud."

"Right," she scoffed. "Sure. She's got a nice way of showing it."

"Yeah, well... you know that she's always going to hate your profession... _our_ profession. But she's still proud."

"Right." Jane belatedly realized that her hands were still on her hips and quickly dropped them, then folded them across her chest. What do people _do_ with their hands when talking, she wondered? "Well, I've really gotta go, so..."

"Oh! Wait! She wanted me to give you this." Frankie wrenched his knapsack off his bag and tossed it down on the ground, crouching down to look through it. Jane stood awkwardly above him, wondering what she should do while he looked, but before she could ask if he needed help, he stood up, carelessly ignoring the scattered contents of his bag. "Here."

It was... a crumpled paper bag. "Uh... thanks?"

Frankie gestured at it offhandedly as he started shoving back in his bag the random items he had taken out of it in his search. "Inside."

"Huh?"

"Look _inside_ the paper bag."

Curiously now, Jane opened up the paper bag, and sure enough, there was a folded up note on lined paper in there. She pulled it out, putting the bag under her armpit for the time being, and opened up the piece of paper.

_Good luck with your detective's exam today, Janey. Do your best, that's all you can do._

The next lines of the note were written in a shaky hand, with small blotches throughout, as though Angela had struggled to write them through her own deep torment.

_I'm sorry for _(the word 'for' had been crossed out and rewritten several times) _not believing you. Please talk to me. I love you._

_Love, Ma._

_P.S. Enjoy the sandwich._

Jane blinked at the note rapidly, trying to rid her eyes of the traitorous tears that had suddenly appeared, while Frankie appeared to find the brick wall fascinating. Finally, she looked up. "Thanks."

Frankie smiled, still staring at the brick wall. "That's okay." Cautiously, he brought his gaze around to look at her. "She loves you, you know. She wants to understand."

"I know." Jane stared at the note again. "It's just... it's hard to explain this, you know? I mean, I'm not even sure I believe it myself, sometimes."

"I know." Frankie looked at the note and shrugged. "Hey, life is weird."

Jane laughed. "You're telling me."

The two siblings stood and looked at each other fondly for several seconds, when Frankie gasped and looked down at his watch. "_Shit._ I gotta get to the academy. Talk later, sis! Good luck!" Before he could run off, Jane called out to him and he turned to look at her. "Yeah?"

"_'__P.S. Enjoy the sandwich,'"_ Jane read out from the note. "Where's my sandwich?"

Frankie smiled. "Gotta run. Bye!"

"Frankie!"

"Good luck!"

Jane sighed. Brothers! Who'd want them!

**_"_****_I'm the youngest. I have 3 brothers."_**

**_"_****_Oh?" Grace leaned forward and let her fingertips skim the surface of the water. She smiled lazily as she did this, and Beatie watched her with a content smile. How did she ever get so lucky as to have this brown haired goddess in her life? "I have only heard tell of 2 brothers of yours. Jack and... is it George?"_**

**_"_****_Yes," Beatie replied, pulled out of her reverie. "Everyone calls him Georgie, but his name is George."_**

**_"_****_So who else is there?" Grace asked curiously, her gaze now focused on Beatie's face rather than the peaceful water._**

**_"_****_Timothy." Beatie's face must have betrayed something, for Grace sat up once more, tucking herself against Beatie's side._**

**_"_****_Tell me about him," she requested quietly. "Please."_**

**_Beatie sighed, her gaze focused on the swaying trees. She gently stroked Grace's hair. "We all called him Timmy. He was only 2 years older than me, but he was big, and strong, and brave. I wanted to be like him so much, so I copied everything he did, followed him everywhere. I must have been irritating, but he never got angry at me... would simply call me out of hiding so that he could show me what he was working on. He was so brilliant, so kind, so gentle..."_**

**_"_****_Was?" Grace shifted slightly so that she could look up at Beatie's face, but Beatie did not look down._**

**_Beatie did not acknowledge the interruption. "One day, he wanted to go hunting with Papa. He had always been told he was too young up to that point, but Papa finally decided he was old enough. He was 10. I was 7, almost 8, and desperate to join them, but Mama said no. I didn't listen, and when Mama was busy... I snuck out. I followed them."_**

**_"_****_Beatie..." Grace whispered, her grip tightening around Beatie's middle._**

**_"_****_We managed to get all the way into the woods without me being discovered, and then Papa and Timmy sent up camp. It was a hot day... the miserable kind of hot where the back of your blouse sticks to your skin within five minutes and your hair is plastered to your face... and I could hear running water nearby."_**

**_Grace shifted slightly but did not speak, her gaze still fixed on Beatie's face._**

**_"_****_I was hot... stinking hot... and Papa and Timmy did not seem to be moving at all. They were just sitting there, quietly... so I decided that a little wading in the water couldn't hurt. Maybe it would even cool me down some. So I very carefully and quietly made my way to the stream. I don't think I made a sound, I'm not sure – I was only 7 – but it sure seemed like I was as quiet as a mouse, and when I reached the stream... which looked more like a river up close, I took my shoes off and hitched my skirts up. The water was heavenly! So cold as it lapped against my toes... and I decided to go deeper. I hitched my skirts up even higher, and in I went. Up to my ankles, my calves, my knees... and just as I began to think that perhaps I should turn back, the ground disappeared from under my feet. I could not swim, and the water was far deeper than I am tall... so, the next time I managed to get above water, I let out an almighty scream. The next thing I knew, I could hear feet pounding the ground, coming towards me, and Timmy is running through the water towards me. When the shelf ends... or whatever it was I was standing on, he took an almighty leap towards me and wrenched me out of the water, taking me back to the part where I could stand in water up to my ankles. He and Papa immediately took me home, berating me the whole time for following them. It was the only time he ever got angry with me."_**

**_Grace let out a breath. "He was brave."_**

**_"_****_Yes." Beatie sighed. "The next day, he began to cough." Reaching down to her side, she wrenched out a piece of grass and began rubbing it between her fingers absently. "He was always prone to coughs and colds... the doctor said he had weak lungs. But he was young... strong... healthy. We thought he'd get over it."_**

**_"_****_He didn't," Grace said. It wasn't a question, but Beatie shook her head anyway._**

**_"_****_No. Three days later, he was bringing up huge amounts of phlegm, some of it flicked with blood. But he still couldn't breathe properly, and he still sounded like he had lots of muck in his lungs. He was dying." Beatie breathed slowly and steadily for a time before she spoke again. "We needed to get him to a hospital, but the nearest hospital was a day's travel away." This time, she was silent for only seconds before she spoke the next sentence. "He died en-route."_**

**_"_****_Oh, my Beatie, I'm so sorry." Grace hugged her tightly, before speaking again, tentatively. "It sounds like... like he had cystic fibrosis."_**

**_Beatie swallowed thickly. "What?"_**

**_"_****_Dorothy Hansine Anderson first described it almost 10 years ago, in 1938. She wrote about it in the _****American Journal of Diseases of Children****_. I mean, I can't say it was definitely that, because I never had the chance to examine him..."_**

**_"_****_You would have been 6 at the time. So you probably wouldn't have been able to tell anyway." Beatie felt a fond smile curve her lips, her tears drying as she felt another wave of love wash over her. This woman... God, she loved her._**

**_"_****_Probably not," Grace said primly, her lips twitching into a wicked smile as Beatie poked her. "So. That's why you're so close with Georgie and Jack then?"_**

**_"_****_Yeah. I just..." Jane shrugged, tossing her piece of grass into the water, "I mean, you never know what tomorrow's gonna bring, you know? So... I gotta tell them I love them, while I still can. Even," she added, rolling her eyes, "if they do drive me insane at times."_**

**_Beatie smiled. "Well, you know I'm a single child, right?"_**

**_"_****_Right." Beatie absently pulled out another piece of grass._**

**_"_****_Well... that's not _****entirely****_true. I have a sister..."_**

Jane blinked. A memory... the first unprompted memory she'd had since childhood... had surfaced. And all because of the word 'brother'. How odd, Jane thought to herself, looking at the spot where her own brother had so recently stood. The word 'brother' must have come up in her thoughts and conversations a thousand times. Why, then, had the memory only surfaced now?

Perhaps because, she mused, it was to remind her of the importance of family. That even though Frankie – or Tommy – drove her nuts sometimes, it was worth it just to have them in their lives. And that even though her mother was, perhaps, somewhat irritating, she was still _family_, and that...

The sound of her own name pulled her out of her thoughts. "Jane! _Jane!_"

She turned around, curiously searching for who needed her, and her gaze quickly fell on Barry Frost.

"Hey! What are you doing?" she asked, jogging towards him, carefully folding and pocketing the note as she moved.

"Coming to work," Frost replied with raised eyebrows, like he was trying to tell her something.

She stared back at him. "What?" she finally asked impatiently.

Frost sighed. "Don't you have something important on today?"

Jane glanced at her watch. _Shit_. "Gotta run, Frost, bye!"

He shook his head and waved as she ran past at full speed.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Rizzoli," Jane said into the phone, carefully balancing it between her ear and shoulder as she awkwardly spread peanut butter onto a slice of bread. Silence greeted her on the other end of the phone. "Hello? Hello-o..." She rolled her eyes when there was still no reply and lifted her head slightly, intending to drop her phone into her waiting hand, but as the phone started to slip, Jane thought she heard a voice. Fumbling with sticky fingers and a dirty phone, she hastily managed to get the phone back up to her ear again. "Hello?"

A very small voice answered. "Hello. How did your exam go?"

Jane lifted her head and stared out the window, sandwich forgotten. "Ma."

"Hi." Angela's voice was still uncharacteristically tiny, and Jane sighed.

"I got your note."

Angela sounded slightly more hopeful when she spoke next. "And the sandwich?"

Jane glanced down at her own sandwich sitting forlornly on the bench. She turned away from it, walking slowly over to her couch. "Yeah, that one didn't make the trip."

"Oh, Frankie!" Angela huffed indignantly and it sounded so much like her normal, outspoken mother that Jane couldn't help but let out a laugh. "So... um," Angela started, sounding hesitant again. Jane sat down and pulled her knees up to her chest protectively, "how _did_ the exam go?"

_Oh._ "It... well, I think I did okay. I don't find out till Wednesday." Jane examined the back of her hand absently. Truthfully, she thought she had done better than okay... she knew the answer to every question on the exam and had no qualms whatsoever about her certainty. Now, she supposed, it was just a matter of deciding if she would be promoted to detective now... or later. And, she mused, if it was going to be now, if she would get that position in homicide that Lieutenant Michaels had alluded to.

"Why so long?" Angela asked, and Jane smiled slightly as she heard impatience in her mother's voice.

"It's just the way it's done, Ma."

"Oh." There was a few seconds of silence on the phone during which Jane sat up and put her feet on the floor, staring at the carpet between her feet and wriggling her toes absently. "I'm sorr..."

"Ma, I..."

Both voices rang out at the same time and Jane hesitated, then let out a soft laugh. Angela copied her only an instant later. "I'm sorry, Janey," she finally offered when both hers and Jane's nervous laughter had faded to silence, "I should have... should have paid more attention. I should have listened to what you had to say."

"No, Ma, I'm sorry." Jane sighed and stood up, pacing around her small living room. "I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that. I should have prepared you more."

"How do you prepare someone for something like that?" Angela asked and Jane stopped in her tracks. She didn't know how to answer that one. "Besides," Angela continued, "I think I probably had enough warning. You were talking about... all of that... from the moment you started talking until you turned, what, 8?"

"7 and three quarters," Jane replied quietly, remembering all too well the sudden clarity and disappointment of realizing that her mother did not want to hear about her memories, about her life. "I wasn't 8 yet."

"Oh," Angela said again, and there was silence on the phone line once more. This time, Jane was the only one to break it.

"So you're okay with the gay thing now too?"

"I..." Angela sucked in a deep breath, as though fortifying herself. Jane found herself sitting on the couch again, her knees pressed together and every muscle tense, "Jane, I was raised Catholic. I... I will be okay with it, but... but it might take me some time." Jane nodded quietly, her eyes closed, forgetting her mother couldn't see her. Speaking with conviction now, Angela continued, "But you are my daughter. And I promise that I will always love you, okay?"

Jane let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling blankly, wondering when this uncomfortable feeling of exposure and vulnerability would go away. "I... okay. Okay, Ma."

"Now," Angela cleared her throat and Jane heard the unmistakable sound of several items being put down. She blinked at the realization that she now had her mother's undivided attention. "Tell me about Beatie."

Jane cleared her throat, hoping to get rid of the unwanted lump that had suddenly appeared there. "And Grace," she added softly.

"And Grace," her mother repeated easily. On the other end of the line, expectant silence greeted Jane's ear.

Jane began to tell their story.

**_END CHAPTER EIGHT_**

_Thoughts?_

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	9. Chapter 9

_Just to clarify any confusion before it happens, Maura's POV is based a couple of weeks behind Jane's. Gradually, her timeline will catch up with Jane's, and then you will be reading both as 'present day', instead of just Jane's. I will still be writing past tense however, as I __personally __find it more comfortable and easier to read. Thanks once more for all the reviews, they are very much appreciated._

Chapter 9

"We're very excited to have you join our team, Dr Isles. I've heard wonderful things about you!" Maura blinked at the fellow medical examiner whose eagerness seemed potent enough to give him the power to shake her arm right out of its socket as he shook her hand.

"Yes... I... thank you," she replied, and carefully extricated herself from his uncomfortably tight grip.

"Dr Isles, thrilled to meet you! You'll be fabulous, I'm sure! We've heard great things!" Another medical examiner approached, her hands clasped in front of her as she gushed unashamedly. Maura bit her lip.

"I... thank you. I hope I can li..."

"Darla! Oh my goodness, how have you been?" Another female examiner walked up and Maura sighed softly.

"Live up to your expectations..." she finished softly, as she looked around the large room, her presence now forgotten by the two doctors in front of her. There were so many people here, and so far, Maura had sensed no sign of the desired friend she had dreamed so much about. To be truthful, this more seemed to be an excuse for a catch-up for all the medical examiners of the Massachusetts area, rather than a meet and greet of their new boss, and no one really seemed interested in getting to know _Maura_. Oh, they were all polite enough for sure... they had all greeted her with smiles and handshakes... but it was just the social niceties. No one seemed genuinely interested.

She supposed that they thought she would be just like the others – there for a time then gone. The amount of time stipulated in the term agreement for a Chief Medical Examiner was five years, though Maura happened to know that the last three Chief M.E.s had not lasted that long. One had been cast out of his position on charges of drug and alcohol abuse, one had been sentenced for assisting to cover up a crime, and the last had apparently been deemed unworthy and demoted to being just a medical examiner. Maura could not see herself ever doing any of these things, nor could she see herself being deemed unworthy of the position, and she fully intended to stay for the full five years, perhaps even more... but she should not be surprised that these people did not realize this. They did not know her, after all.

Plus, there was the undeniable fact that Maura Isles did not exactly fit the stereotypical mould of the usual medical examiner. The Isles family was quite wealthy – the wealth a combination of inheritance from Constance's family, as well as her father's quite profitable business ventures – and so Maura always had every luxury, and she found herself taking comfort in fashion. It wasn't that she was vain – she had always been told she was attractive but saw herself as simply average – it was that she was genuinely thrilled by the artistry of clothing, by the statement one could make about themselves, simply by the clothes and accessories chosen. She was fascinated by the shoes, the hats, the jewellery, the weave of fabric and the creation of pattern designs. She found a kind of giddy delight in these things, and the way they complemented her body only served to heighten her joy.

Still, once more it seemed that the things that gave her joy were the things that cast her into the abyss of loneliness. It always seemed that there were two reactions: some people were intimidated by the way she dressed, and assumed that her sense of style indicated that friends or acquaintances must have a similar style or class, or the second option – as was more often the case – they assumed that Maura was vain, pompous and arrogant, and simply steered clear.

_Like that woman at the coffee shop yesterday!_ Maura mused, feeling another hot flush of anger rushing through her. Granted, she had not asked for Maura's assistance... but surely it was not rude to lend a helping hand to a stranger? Surely that could not create offence. And yet it had seemed to... Maura shook her head resolutely. Well, there was no use thinking of it anymore at any rate. It was hardly likely that she would run into her again, so there was no need to think of ways to apologize without coming across as angry or pitying. She nodded slightly to herself. Right.

Maura smiled widely as another medical examiner approached (Dr... Popo? Popily? Popono? Oh dear, what _was_ his name) but sighed as he simply smiled politely and made a detour around her to talk to another man who had introduced himself to her earlier in an extremely enthusiastic manner, taking a good once over of her body as he did so.

And there, of course, was the third reaction that she had forgotten. The blatant flirting and ogling from the opposite (and occasionally the same) sex. Still, she supposed, at least her occupation did not rely upon her looks, like that woman Tiffa...

Maura almost groaned out loud to herself. Tiffany. She was thinking of her again. Why? Why did she seem to monopolize so much of Maura's thoughts, even though they had only had a very brief meeting that, for all accounts and purposes, did _not_ go well? Tiffany... now there was a woman who needed no amount of clothing or accessories to beautify herself. She was naturally beautiful, with a figure to match, but...

No! Maura took a deep breath and smiled around the room, determinedly picking up her drink and heading deeper into the crowd. She was not going to think about that woman anymore. It was guaranteed that she'd be meeting many new people with this new job anyway – even if most of them _would_ be dead – she was simply going to focus every atom of her body on meeting and remembering all the new names, rather than think of the woman whose name _really_ began with a J... _hmm, Joanne? Jade? Jackie, Julia, Jessica..._ Maura sighed. Perhaps she'd just focus on remembering the new names as _well_ as thinking about the mystery prostitute.

Because it didn't appear that she had a choice in the matter.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"How'd your meet and greet go?" Susie asked excitedly, almost the second Maura walked into her new offices to get set up. Maura blinked at her tiredly. How _had_ it gone?

"It was... very..." Maura sighed and sat in what was now, she supposed, her chair. She frowned and looked around as soon as her weight settled. Well, she knew what her first order of business was. Getting a new office chair! "... informative," she finally finished, shifting slightly in discomfort. "It was very informative and... illuminating... to meet those who I'll be presiding over."

"Illuminating?" Susie scrunched her face up slightly and shifted in place. "What... do you mean?"

Maura bit her lip. "I had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Popov. And Dr. Pike."

"Oh," Susie winced. "I see."

"You know of them?"

Susie shifted once more. "I've worked with both... on occasion."

"What is the quality of their work like, if you don't mind me asking?"

Susie winced once more, looking around as though to check for eavesdroppers. "I would have to say, Dr. Isles, that 'subpar' would be an accurate depiction."

"Right," Maura murmured. "Just as I suspected." Susie shifted her weight once more in the doorway and Maura instantly shot up out of her seat. "Oh, Senior Criminalist Chang, I do apologize, I have been terribly rude in not offering you a seat. Please..." Maura broke off and looked around the rather bare office, "oh. It appears I do not have a seat to offer you, I'm afraid."

"That's alright, Dr Isles," Susie hastened to reassure her, but seemed to take the invitation in some form anyway, slowly venturing further into the room. "I don't mind standing. It..." she paused, and Maura watched in surprise as a light blush flushed her olive skin, "it seems to be appropriate anyway. You are my boss... I am showing you a sign of respect."

"Oh, Susie..." Maura started, watching as Susie's flush appeared to deepen at the sound of her Christian name, "that's not the way I want to run this. You are to be my colleague, not my employee, is that understood? Perhaps even..." It was now Maura's turn to flush slightly, "my friend?"

Instantly, a bright beaming smile lit up Susie's face. "That would be... I..." She paused for a brief moment, and Maura watched with bemusement as she breathed deeply, seemingly trying to regain control over herself, "I would like that very much indeed, Dr Isles."

Maura smiled slightly, then looked down at her desk, feeling, if truth be known, a little bit lost. This was, she supposed, always the worst part of a new job: feeling like you don't fit in and don't belong, always worried you'll make some serious faux pas like ask the woman who's had five miscarriages when she was going to have a baby. Maura didn't know her colleagues, didn't have any friends in the area... she supposed that she ought to be used to being alone, but she was still an optimist in spite of everything and was not ready to admit defeat. There was someone out there for her, not only a best friend but also a life companion, perhaps even all rolled up into the one person. She _knew_ it, she could feel it in her bones... and again, wasn't that one of those awful 'gut feelings' that had led her to Boston in the first place? Still, although her intestines were unable to give her any verified facts to prove their assertions, she still found herself trusting them. She only hoped that they would not lead her into trouble.

Shaking her head she realized too late that Susie was talking. "I'm sorry, Susie, I was ruminating on... well, various things. What were you saying?"

Far from looking offended, Susie simply smiled brightly, looking delighted that Maura was interested in what she had to say. She truly was, Maura considered, a lovely young woman. "That's alright, Dr Isles! I was just saying that since you've spent some time getting to know Boston, you might find it prudent to get to know some of the homicide detectives you'll be working with. I believe you'll be working with Detective Vince Korsak primarily, along with his partner Detective Fred Murphy." She dropped her voice conspiratorially, "Detective Murphy is getting on a bit in years though, so there's rumours that he will announce his retirement by the end of the year."

End of the year... it was only May now, so that still left plenty of time to get to know both Detectives Murphy and Korsak, and perhaps get a feel for their work. Maura had worked with detectives of inferior quality before and found their lack of ability not only frustrating but also infuriating at times. She rather hoped that this would not be the case again. "I don't wish to engage in idle office gossip, but if you don't mind telling me... what are they like? In their work role, of course."

"Brilliant," Susie answered without hesitation and Maura let out a slow breath, feeling relieved. "They have a very high close rate and are considered one of the best teams Boston has. I think you will like working with them, Dr Isles."

"Maura," Maura corrected, absently thinking that she probably should have corrected her a while earlier, but her mind racing with this new information. Was it possible that this job actually _could_ be as good as it sounded?

Susie flushed pinkly once more, but repeated 'Maura' obediently, though not with any real volume to her voice, and watched avidly, waiting as Maura's gaze focused on the edge of the desk. Maura was lost in thought. She wondered how best to go about introducing herself to the two detectives she would be working with so closely. Should she wait for them to come down to greet her, or would that make it seem like she had too high an opinion of herself to associate with the lowly police officers? Perhaps then, she should go up to them... or would that be too presumptuous? Thinking hard, it took her several long seconds to realize that Susie was still standing in the doorway patiently, looking at Maura with starry eyes.

"Oh. Susie. I'm sorry. I was..."

"It's okay, Dr Isl... Maura!" Susie hastened to reassure her. "I understand, you must have a lot on your mind right now with the move and everything."

The move. Maura hadn't even considered the fact that her home was still an obstacle course of half unpacked boxes and disassembled furniture. With a stab of guilt, she wondered how Bass, her tortoise, was coping in his new environment. He was probably confused, she thought, and stood up resolutely. Susie looked at her with wide, shocked eyes, seeming to wonder what she had said that was so wrong.

"Dr Isles, are you... is everything okay?" she half gasped, and Maura pasted a smile to her face, vaguely letting the thought cross her mind that Susie's star struck routine could get rather tiresome if allowed to go on too long, and nodded.

"Everything's fine, Susie, I just remembered some things I need to do back at home. You reminded me. Bass must be missing me also."

"Bass? Your... boyfriend? Husband?"

"My tortoise," Maura corrected, hastening to collect her possessions which, even in her reasonably short visit to her office, had seemed to scatter of their own accord to all four corners of the room. "No boyfriend. Or husband."

Susie watched as Maura collected her things, finally holding out her cell phone which, for some reason unbeknownst to Maura, she had placed on a table near the door. "No? Forgive me Dr Isles, but you are a very attractive woman. I find it hard to believe that you..."

"Not," Maura interrupted, feeling only a small twinge of guilt at her rudeness, "that I believe it has any bearing on a person whatsoever, but I am of the homosexual orientation. My choice to not have a boyfriend or a husband is a necessary one to keep myself emotionally healthy, as I fear the duress of forcing myself to live a life that I am not happy with would have severe repercussions sooner or later in my life." Reaching out to take the cell phone from Susie's hand, Maura nodded tightly and smiled. "However, I am indeed single at this current time so my decision to go home is primarily for my tortoise and also the need to sort out my possessions, not to engage in intercourse, as undoubtedly pleasant as that would be." Ignoring the way Susie's mouth dropped open at the word 'intercourse', Maura reached out and plucked her phone from suddenly lax hands. "Thank you, Susie."

"You're welcome, Dr Isles," Susie breathed, her eyes starry once more, and Maura smiled awkwardly, dropping her gaze as she slipped past her to head out the door.

Well, she supposed with a sigh, it wouldn't really feel like _work_ if one of her employees didn't have a crush on her... right?

She sighed again. Sometimes she'd really like to found out what it would be like to be liked for her brain, not her body.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Maura stretched tiredly as she sat down in the uncomfortable chair once more. It had taken several hours the previous night, but finally her new house was feeling like home. It didn't make too much sense to go all out, she supposed – this was only intended to be a temporary home until something she liked more became available – but she simply couldn't help herself. She had such fleeting senses of belonging in places outside of her home, that she simply had to feel completely comfortable in at least one aspect in her life, and the place she lived was it. There, she was free to be herself without fear of public scrutiny. She needn't worry about people questioning her masks, her furniture, her decorations, because it was _her_ place, no one else's. She supposed that when she did eventually get a partner one day, that things would have to change in at least some small regard, but, she mused with a faraway smile, she was sure that that person would understand her enough to never, ever want to change her. And, she was also sure, that person would never _tease_ her either... for her furnishings, or for her... unusual... choice for a pet. Not that it was really her choice, though. Her mother was allergic to dog hair, and her father strongly disliked cats. So even though child Maura had begged for a kitten or a puppy (she would keep it far away from her parents, she _promised_), she had ended up getting a tortoise for her birthday, and back then he had been small enough to carry around in a Chinese-style noodle box. Now, of course, he was over 50 pounds and the size of a large suitcase. Thankfully, she mused, he was not prone to anger. She had left him, after all, for the majority of the time he had been in his new home, but after letting her see only his shell for about five minutes, he seemed to forgive her and came up, greeting her with his usual quiet love and appreciation.

Maura smiled down at her desk. Pets were truly wonderful, she thought. They love you no matter what... no matter how strange you are, how few friends you have...

"Dr Isles?"

"Oh!" Maura jumped slightly and sat up straight, looking towards the doorway in confusion, where two men stood, peering in at her curiously. One, she noticed, was fairly overweight with salt and pepper hair and hard brown eyes. He looked hard, angry... even cruel. As she looked at him though, he suddenly smiled, and she decided that her initial impression was incorrect. He had a lovely smile that crinkled what appeared to be well used lines into the skin around his eyes. She smiled back cautiously, and turned her attention to the other man. He was much more slender than his partner and his hair, she noted, was almost completely white, his eyes a sparkling green. Murphy, she guessed, which meant that the heavier man must be Korsak. "I'm so sorry, you caught me in a moment of rumination. Not something that I am prone to, for sure, but..." she shrugged helplessly, "I'm afraid I am rather tired today."

"No problem," the man she guessed to be Korsak said, stepping closer. "It's my understanding that you don't officially start work until Monday anyway... it's only Friday now. You are welcome to daydream to your heart's content." Those well used lines were in full force once more, and Maura smiled back, wondering how she could ever have thought him to be a nasty man.

"Yes, well... I just wanted to get situated with the staff and the facilities before I get... what is the expression? Thrown into the shallow end?"

"Deep end," the man corrected instantly, smiling still but not, Maura noted with some surprise, with any condescension or irritability visible. It was as though her mistake was one anyone could make, and did make with regularity.

"Deep end," she repeated instantly. "That does make more sense, actually. Throwing someone into the shallow end is considered very dangerous, due to the danger of hitting the bottom and becoming para or even quadriplegic."

"Right," the man she assumed to be Korsak said with a small laugh of pure amusement, though she did not sense that said amusement was directed at her. She stared at him in surprise. "Well, I'm Vince Korsak, this is my partner, Fred Murphy and... well, we were wondering if you might want to go get some lunch together. Get to know each other."

"You seem like a very interesting, intelligent and entertaining young lady," Murphy said, speaking for the first time and stepping closer also. Maura turned her gaze on him, her mouth slightly agape as she looked at his smile. He reminded her of Father Christmas, truth be known. "We'd very much like the opportunity to get to know you... if that's alright, of course."

"If it's..." Maura stood up abruptly, almost sending a stack of paper flying to the floor. She rescued it with a quick movement, and looked at the two men sheepishly, neither of whom had lost their friendly smiles. "Yes. Yes, I think that would be fantastic. I'm Maura, by the way."

"Vince," Korsak said, and beckoned her forward, holding the door open.

"Fred," Murphy offered, sweeping his hand forward in an 'after you' gesture.

Maura looked at both of them and smiled. She was going to do well in Boston, she thought.

Yes. She was going to be just fine.

**_END CHAPTER NINE_**

_Thoughts? Don't be shy, I am grateful for each and every review, even if you can only leave a short one. Thank you all for continuing to read my story also. :-)_

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"So wait... you were a _prostitute?_"

There was entirely far too much glee in Frankie's voice, and Jane rolled her eyes, wondering exactly when technology would progress to the point where she would be send a punch to her brother over the phone line. Not to the face, she mused... the arm would be enough. Or the chest... "Where did you hear that?"

"From good ol' Frostie." The pure giddiness was almost palpable, and Jane groaned out loud, her thoughts progressing from ways of causing bodily harm over the phone to ways of causing bodily harm in person the next time she saw Barry Frost.

"Why would he tell you that?" she gritted out through clenched teeth, her jaw clicking as she heard laughter in her ear.

"Well, he didn't mean to. It just slipped out. So, what were you wearing?"

"Oh my God, Frankie, really? Can you be any more gross?"

"Hooker heels, fishnet tights, leather jacket, short skirt, hair pinned up high?"

"How did you know that?" Jane blurted, then instantly realized her mistake, her eyes shutting as she heard her brother laugh uproariously.

"Oh God, you had the whole package, I was right! Do you have a picture? I know some people who'd _love_ to see that..."

Jane rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. "Hanging up now."

"Wait wait wait, I'm sorry. How did it go, really?"

Jane pulled the phone back from her ear and glared at it suspiciously before cautiously bringing it back to her ear. "Good. I, uh... I did what I had to do, and caught the bad guys and... yeah. Good."

"And you don't find about the detective's exam yet?"

Jane paused. "You've been talking to Ma."

"Yeah. Thanks for calling her, Janey. It meant the world to her."

Jane shrugged uncomfortably. "It was nothing. I mean, she's my Ma, you know? Not like I could be mad at her forever."

"Yeah, I know. Annoying as she can be, she kinda grows on you after a while." There was a comfortable silence on the line as the two siblings considered these words and after a short period, Frankie spoke again. "So, uh... when _do_ you find out the results of the exam? Is it Wednesday or Thursday? Ma couldn't remember."

"Wednesday," Jane replied, with a stab of trepidation. "Today."

"Wow," Frankie murmured quietly. "Are you nervous?"

"'Course not," Jane scoffed, before laughing sheepishly. "Petrified, actually. I just want this so bad that..." she trailed off, but Frankie seemed to understand.

"Yeah. I get ya. You want it so bad that you're scared to hope for it."

"Yeah," she breathed, looking out the window.

"You'll get it Jane. You're the best at your job. You deserve it."

Jane stared blankly into the street below and remained silent. Yes, she _was_ good at her job... so why did she doubt herself so?

"So..." Frankie said, after a brief pause. "You, uh... you told Ma about Grace and Beatie."

"Yeah," Jane replied, grateful for the subject change, then continued almost defensively, "she asked."

"I know," Frankie said calmly, and Jane deflated.

"Sorry," she murmured. "It's just... it's so weird that I'm able to _talk_ to her about it now, you know?"

"It would be." She could hear Frankie moving about, and then she heard the clatter of a knife into a sink. She rolled her eyes, waiting. "So ho goss da sersh fa curra day Grasse?" As she predicted, Frankie was talking with his mouth full.

"Yeah, wanna swallow and try that again?"

After some audible chewing and a large swallowing noise that made Jane wince, Frankie spoke again, "So how goes the search for your current day Grace?"

"Ha!"

"That good, huh?"

Jane sighed, heading over to flop onto her couch. "Yeah, well..." The only new women she had met recently had either been drug dealing or buying prostitutes, or their (female) high class 'customers', none of whom seemed at all likely to be her Grace. Of course, there was also that woman at the coffee shop... "not one of the women I've met recently seemed likely. Granted I've been mostly speaking to _hookers_ for the past couple of weeks..." Maura, that was her name. Maura in the red dress. "And one snooty lady at a coffee shop, but there's no _way_ she's Grace." But she wasn't really snooty, was she? She was quiet and polite and...

"Why not?"

"She was rude," Jane replied shortly, deciding not to mention the fact that the only reason she had been rude was because Jane was rude to her in the first place.

**_"_****_You are an _****idiot!****_"_**

The memory of Grace's voice jumped into Jane's head without warning, and she shook her head. Yes, she was an idiot. While Jane had decided that there was no chance that that woman was present-day Grace, there was still no need for her to act like an asshole and be so rude. Never mind, Jane thought, shaking her head again. It wasn't like she was _ever_ going to see the woman again, so there was no need to focus on the matter any longer. Still...

"Uh huh. And I bet you were a little ray of sunshine too."

Jane rolled her eyes. Sometimes her brother knew her _way_ too well. "Shut up."

He hummed knowingly. "Right. Well, anyway. I suppose I should let you go so you can get to work and find out about the detective's exam."

"Right," Jane echoed, feeling another stab of trepidation. The exam. _Shit._

"So... oh, hey, one quick question before you go?"

"What?" Jane asked, getting up once more to resume her restless pacing around the lounge room.

"Just to really help me complete my mental image, I'm guessing you were wearing bright blue eyeshadow?" Jane frowned, realization dawning at the same time as Frankie confirmed her suspicion: "You know, when you were a hooker?"

"Shut up, you asshole!"

Frankie guffawed. "Love you too, sis!"

Jane pressed the end button on her phone and barely resisted throwing it at the wall. "Stupid, know it all brothers," she muttered and compromised by throwing the phone onto the couch instead, then glanced up at the clock on the wall. "_Shit!_"

Time to find out how the results of her detective's exam.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane skidded into work five minutes late, one hand methodically checking her belt to ensure all items were in place and, if needed, buckled in appropriately, the other desperately trying to smooth down wild ringlets that seemed to have a mind of their own. Matea raised an eyebrow as she flopped into her seat, simultaneously trying desperately to stop panting whilst also trying to look as though she'd been there for hours.

"Rough morning?" Matea asked sympathetically, but with lips twitching suspiciously.

"Shut up," Jane hissed, rubbing at the stitch in her side. "Frankie called this morning. I lost track of the time."

"Yeah?" Matea asked, a frown appearing on his face. "Anything serious?"

"No. I mean..." Jane sighed. She had never officially come out and told people at work that she was a lesbian, but then again, if her brother was to be believed, most people knew anyway. "I mean... we were talking about... about Ma."

"She alright?" Matea took an apple out of his desk drawer, polished it against his jacket, then took a bite, never taking his eyes off Jane.

"Yeah, she..." Jane sighed again. Time to bite the bullet, so to speak, "she kinda freaked out when I told her I was gay." She winced pre-emptively but Matea simply took another bite of apple.

"That's gotta suck," he said blandly, through his mouthful. She looked at him curiously, but with no real surprise. She guessed that her sexuality really _was_ no big secret, just as Frankie had said.

"Yeah. She took a couple of days but she, uh... she did finally come around. And we talked for a while about..." Jane paused. The only people she had ever really spoken to about Grace and Beatie were Frost, Frankie, and her Ma, not including, of course, the countless people she undoubtedly would have told when she was younger. Surveying Matea with a beady eye, she made a quick decision. Not today. Perhaps not ever. It was simply too big a secret to divulge with just anyone, even if that person was her partner. "... just about different things. Frankie called this morning to ask how it all went. Oh, and to tease me about being an undercover hooker." Jane rolled her eyes fondly.

Matea laughed. "Of course he did, he's your brother!"

"Wait..." Jane suddenly thought of something that she was surprised she hadn't thought of earlier, and sat up straight in her chair, a finger pointed accusingly at Matea, who instantly, she noticed, squirmed guiltily, "Frankie said he heard about the undercover hooker assignment from Frost... but who told _Frost_?"

Matea's eyes shifted over to the side slightly. She jabbed the finger even more forcefully in his direction. "He seemed worried that you didn't come back the same day as me. So I told him you had to stay one extra day to finish your current... uh... transaction."

Jane didn't lower her finger. "Uh huh. And?"

Matea shifted uncomfortably. "Are you sure you didn't tell him?"

"Nope. No one except for you and the Lieu were supposed to know, and hell if I _wanted_ anyone to know."

"I only told him when I knew you were safe and on your way home!"

Jane sat back and let out a theatrical groan. "Honestly, between you, my brothers and my mother, it's amazing I've maintained _any_ sanity whatsoever!"

Matea laughed again, turning back to his desk. Casually, he asked over his shoulder, "Anyway, how is your youngest brother going? Tommy?"

Jane stiffened, her smile fading quickly. "He's fine," she answered shortly.

"Really?" Matea asked, turning to face her again. "Cause when I saw Frankie last, he said..."

Lieutenant Michaels' voice cut him off. "Rizzoli!"

Thanking the heavens for the Lieutenants timing, Jane half shrugged at Matea and stood up, carefully smoothing down the front of her pants and then running a nervous hand through her hair. It was time to find out the results of her exam. Still, she made a mental note to talk to Frankie about who he spoke to about Tommy. She did not need it to become too well known around the Boston Police Department about her youngest brother's tendency for getting into serious trouble. There were already enough things for the other officers to mock her about; she didn't feel like adding fuel to their already burning fire. Turning resolutely, she began making her way to the office, where Michaels stood in the doorway. Feeling like she was almost shaking, she inclined her head gratefully as he moved to let her pass, and as she settled into the seat in front of his desk, she watched as he closed the door and made his way to his own seat. He was avoiding eye contact. She wondered if that was good or bad.

"Sir?" she finally asked after a few beats of silence, and noted with pride that her voice did not tremble at all.

"Your brother..." Michaels started, looking down at some papers on his desk, "Francesco Junior Rizzoli..."

"Frankie," Jane said, then immediately quailed slightly as Michaels flicked his gaze up. "We all... call him Frankie," she continued in a murmur, then dropped her gaze to her lap.

"Frankie Rizzoli then," he began again, after a short beat, "has completed his final test at the Police Academy today." Jane looked up quickly, her eyes meeting Michaels' piercing blue gaze.

"What? Are you... how did... how did he... is he...?" she started, but seemed unable to finish any sentence. Why had Frankie not told her? _Because you were too busy talking about you_, a small voice whispered, and Jane frowned slightly.

Michaels took pity on her. "He is now a qualified police officer. He will be starting work here in two weeks."

"Wow." Jane sat back in her seat, her heart racing. She felt like her face was going to split with the huge grin that was plastered across it. "Wait, where will he be? What department?"

Michaels seemed to be somewhat amused by Jane's reaction, but his face remained impassive as he answered. "Same place that everyone starts. He will be a patrol officer, assigned to street work and call outs. I will be promoting another officer from patrol to the drug unit."

Jane frowned. "There are no spots vacant in the drug unit."

Michaels looked at her, raising an eyebrow significantly. "Yes."

"So that means... no one's retiring in drugs that I'm aware of..." Jane sat up abruptly, her heart racing once more. "Someone's getting promoted."

Michaels nodded slowly, his piercing gaze never leaving Jane's as his lips curved up knowingly.

Jane watched him closely. "I... it's me?" she asked, breathing shallowly. "It's me? I did it? I passed the detective's exam?"

"You did."

"I did? I... I did?" Jane fell back in her chair then sat up again, unsure of what to do with her body and the extra abundance of energy she seemed to suddenly possess. "I did. I really did?"

"You really did." There was no disguising the amusement on Michaels' face now, as he watched her with a smile, and Jane couldn't help herself anymore. Flinging herself up and around his desk, she impulsively and gleefully flung her arms around his neck.

"Thank you!" she cried happily, before rapidly retreating, her face already blazing pink from the unplanned action. Michaels too, seemed somewhat surprised; the usually unflappable man was straightening his collar and clearing his throat, his face and neck a slight shade of pink as well.

"You're welcome," he said gruffly, before shaking his head and seeming to return to business almost instantly. "Well, I must offer you my congratulations. You are officially the youngest person ever to be promoted to detective."

"Thank you," Jane said softly, hastily retreating to her chair and sitting there uncomfortably, her hands under her legs to stop them from fidgeting uncontrollably. There was no helping her legs however... they bounced merrily, no matter how hard Jane tried to stop the movement.

"It's not official yet, though, I must warn you."

Jane tried to smooth the smile off her face, but was afraid she failed miserably. "Right," she nodded, trying to appear completely serious. "Uh... why is that?"

Michaels looked at her seriously, probably, Jane considered later, honestly worried that she might spontaneously combust if given too much good news in one hit. He must have thought her strong enough to handle it though, as he spoke soon after. "One of the officers in the homicide department has been advised by his doctor to take his retirement now, rather than at the end of the year. He has given me his two week's notice. I would prefer to make the announcement of your promotion and your move to Homicide all at the same time... assuming, of course, that all goes to plan." The Lieutenant shot Jane a look of pure alarm at this point, as Jane had emitted a sound similar to the whistle of a kettle reaching boiling point.

"I'm getting moved to Homicide?" she whispered, her voice somewhat squeakier than normal.

"Yes," Michaels replied, his eyebrows still raised in alarm as he stared at her worriedly.

"Seriously?"

"Yes... would you like some water, Rizzoli?"

"I..." Jane breathed deeply and forced herself to calm down; an act that seemed almost impossible at present time, "yes please."

Still looking at her worriedly, Michaels stood up and headed over to the water cooler that she had only just noticed was in the corner of his office. Pouring some water into one of the plastic cups, he brought it over to her and watched cautiously as she took careful, slow swallows of the cool fluid, feeling it seem to cool down her innards. Finally, when she seemed as calm as one could expect under the circumstances, she glanced up at her boss once more. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, and she was happy to note that the line of concern between his eyes had disappeared, his face against a smooth mask... the only exception being that his lips were still curved up into a slight smile. "Of course, when I say it is a secret, I mean that only no one _here_ can know. You can, of course, tell your family... provided they know that it is imperative to keep this confidential for now."

Jane internally scoffed. She wondered if her mother even knew the _meaning_ of the word 'confidential'. Outwardly, she smiled and nodded though... then she hesitated. "So... I can't tell anyone here?"

Michaels' smile widened a fraction. "I meant to say that I, of course, consider Matea and Frost to be included in 'your family'."

Jane smiled widely. "Thank you, sir."

"Now..." Michaels said, standing up. "Dare I suggest it...?"

Jane tilted her head. "Suggest what?"

Michaels quirked his lips in amusement. "That perhaps you would like to meet your future teammates?"

Jane stood up abruptly. "Yes! Where?"

Michaels shook his head as he too, got to his feet. He headed for the door and opened it, gesturing for Jane to leave first, and as she passed, he murmured, "I think we will see great things out of you, Rizzoli. The best is yet to come."

Jane straightened imperceptibly. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

_Homicide!_

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane looked around the room, waiting nervously for the detectives to come in. The _other_ detectives, she thought gleefully. She could now count herself among their ranks.

Michaels had chosen to them to meet in one of the seldom used interrogation rooms. It was small, as he said, but this way it was unlikely that anyone would become suspicious as to why a drug unit officer, her lieutenant and two homicide detectives were meeting... as it was supremely unlikely that anyone would even see them, hidden away as this room was. It was _why_ it was one of the more seldom used ones, as Michaels had explained... simply no one could be bothered.

Jane jumped when the door opened, and stood up as a white haired man entered first. He reminded her, she realized instantly, of Santa Claus. Immediately, she held out her hand to him. "Hello. I'm Off... Det..." Floundering, she looked at Michaels for support.

"_Detective_ Jane Rizzoli," he jumped in smoothly. "She took her detective's exam on Monday and passed with flying colours."

The white haired man beamed widely. "Well. They just seem to be getting younger and younger every year, don't they Korsak?"

Jane looked over his shoulder as another man entered the room. This one had salt and pepper hair and hard brown eyes, and he was considerably bigger than his partner. He looked at Jane curiously.

"Yes, I agree," he said, and smiled at her, the smile instantly softening his whole face. Jane smiled back. "I'm Korsak. Vince Korsak. And this here is my partner, Fred Murphy. Not my partner for much longer though, eh old pal?"

Fred sat down on one of the chairs. "No, sadly not." He pumped his chest. "The old ticker just aint what it used to be, I'm afraid." He winked at Jane, and she smiled again, herself moving to a chair. Korsak followed, while Michaels remained standing in the corner. "The doctor has recommended I leave the force sooner rather than later... or he fears I may end up leaving in a far more permanent way."

"Oh," Jane said, nodding emphatically, "that must be..."

But she never got a chance to say what that must be, as she was interrupted by a knock at the door. All four people in the room looked at the door curiously, wondering who would even know that there was someone in this room, and finally Michaels stepped forward. "Who is it?"

"Dr Isles," a clear, feminine voice answered back instantly. Jane didn't know why, but the voice sounded vaguely familiar. "I have the test results that Detectives Korsak and Murphy were after."

Michaels reached for the door handle. "Our new Medical Examiner," Korsak explained to Jane as the door opened. "She's brilliant. Thank you, Maura." He reached out a hand for the papers Maura held and Jane finally moved her gaze from Korsak's face to see Dr Isles for the first time. "Oh, how rude of me, Dr Isles, this is Detective Jane Rizzoli..."

"We've met," Jane said faintly, as she watched hazel eyes meet hers and a perfectly made up mouth drop open in recognition.

**_END CHAPTER TEN_**

_I'm sorry! Believe it or not, I don't actually intend to leave you with all these cliffhangers. It's just... the way it works out. Anyway, thoughts? Much appreciated. Thank you for reading._

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you so much for the ongoing support. I love it. I've had some people asking me how long this story will be... I'm still thinking around 30 chapters probably, because there's still a lot of story to go, but I will let you know as I get closer. :-)_

_Also, this will be the chapter that catches Maura up to Jane's timeline. :-)_

Chapter Eleven

"So, what brings you to Boston, Dr Maura Isles?" Korsak asked, curiously observing her as he slid into a booth. Maura waited awkwardly to see where Murphy was going to sit, but he held his hand out to her, inviting her to move first. She hoped it wouldn't be considered rude to sit on the opposite bench, rather than next to Korsak... but her fears were allayed when Murphy comfortably slid into the seat next to him instead, leaving her on her bench alone. She supposed it was both a gentlemanly move – considering neither man knew her all that well – plus a strategic move so that they could both observe her that much more easily and she them... but the easy politeness of the move made her stare shyly for a few seconds. Finally, the question seemed to seep into her brain.

"Oh! Um..." Maura looked around the bar curiously as she wondered how best to phrase her answer. It – the bar – was quite nice, she supposed, but rather old fashioned with a big jukebox in the corner and several pool tables near the back of the room. It was quite obviously a police frequented place as she saw several officers scattered in other booths and tables around the place. Both chairs and booth seats were made out of the same faded red faux leather, split in places, but overall, the bar had quite a homely feel about it. Even though it was not anything like any of the places she had ever frequented in her life, she decided she liked it. "Sorry," she apologized quietly as she realized she had been silent for a few too many seconds. "I, uh... I lived in Oregon, near Klamath Falls before. I was..." she sighed, "well, the little town I was in was surrounded by national forest, and even though we had several highways through town, we were generally very quiet. Very peaceful." She looked out the window at the hustle and bustle of the world of Boston. _It was the complete opposite of here_, she finished silently.

"So... you were the town doctor then?" Murphy asked, raising a hand to flag down the waitress. Maura glanced curiously over her shoulder as the young woman threw her rag down irritably, preparing to come over to the table. "Yeah, she's a bit of a sourpuss," Murphy confided quietly, a grin on his face.

Glancing over her shoulder again and seeing that the woman had still not made it any closer to them, despite quite obviously seeing them, Maura answered quickly. "Yes... well, to an extent. Most of the time, I just... I just dealt with the town's dead. I suppose you could say I was the morgue physician, though I certainly didn't hold such a title with the town's people."

Korsak surveyed her curiously and Maura winced inwardly, begging silently that he not ask what the town's people called her. Perhaps he heard the silent plea, for the only thing he asked was: "So how did a small town doctor manage to wind up becoming the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts?" He too, raised his hand to signal the waitress, but his eyes never left Maura. To gain more time, Maura glanced over her shoulder again just in time to see the woman fling up the side of the bar bad temperedly, just barely missing the hand of a man who was leaning against the bar chatting to a friend, and then stomp over to the table.

She looked Maura up and down haughtily. "You're new," she said rudely, and Maura blinked.

"I... um, yes. I'm Dr Maura..."

"Whatever," she cut in rudely, and Maura blinked once more, looking the woman up and down herself. 'Katherine' was written in bold, childlike print on her nametag, the little 'i' dotted with a heart, and Maura couldn't help but think that this woman really should consider buying her uniform shirts at least a size or two bigger. Her breasts were almost ready to pop out of the one she was currently wearing, while her skirt barely covered her backside. "What do ya want?" 'Katherine' asked again, looking bored, and Maura looked at Korsak for assistance.

"What would you like, Dr Isles?" he asked kindly. Maura wondered if he placed special emphasis on her title for Katherine's benefit. "It's my treat."

"Oh, I..." Maura looked around, but couldn't see a drinks menu at all. "Do you have a drinks menu, at all?" she asked timidly, and Katherine rolled her eyes, placing her hand on her hip. "Oh... never mind. I'll just have a... a sparkling mineral water please. With ice."

"Yes, your Majesty," Katherine said haughtily, performing a huge, fake bow. "Anything else, your Majesty?"

Maura stared at her, feeling rather taken aback. "Um... normal mineral water is fine if you don't have sparkling," she offered meekly, and Katherine rolled her eyes, turning to the two men.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else, Maura?" Korsak asked gently. "A beer, perhaps, or wine...?"

Maura perked up at the mention of wine, but she forced herself to calm down. This was only a social nicety, after all... it's not like these two men would ever want to spend time with her outside work again, and she was determined not to take advantage of their generosity. "No, thank you. Mineral water will be fine."

"Fine. A mineral water with ice please, and two beers."

Katherine looked at him scathingly, but Korsak just blinked back blandly, and she, with an obvious eye roll, twirled around and headed back to the bar. Maura stared after her. "My," she murmured quietly to her two companions, "she certainly hasn't got the most desirable attitude, especially considering the fact she works in such close proximity with the public every day." She looked at Korsak curiously. "Why did she not say anything rude to you?"

Korsak laughed. "Oh, that wasn't rude. That was positively polite by her standards. And... well..." he shrugged and the corner of his lips twitched up into a half smile. He paused, seeming to search for the words, and finally, he finished simply with, "we've had words in the past." Murphy laughed.

"He means that he tore strips off her one day. Since then, she's been a lot more respectful."

"Tore... strips?" Maura asked hesitantly. "Did you damage her clothing?"

Korsak and Murphy both laughed uproariously but not, Maura noted with surprise, at all unkindly. "No, Maura. It's an expression. It means I... well, I let her know her behaviour was unacceptable."

"What he means is, he was having the worst day ever, and she was the first person to piss him off," Murphy confided in an undertone, leaning closer to her and Maura let out a small laugh.

"Oh, I see!"

"Well, anyway..." Korsak said, nodding in appreciation as Katherine came back, putting their drinks in front of them bad temperedly. Maura noticed that her mineral water had no ice, but when Korsak raised his eyebrows in question, she shook her head. She really did not want to have to deal with that woman again. "What were we saying?" Korsak asked, tapping his fingers on his chin. Maura bit her lip, looking down at her water. "Oh! Yes, I remember... I was asking how a small town doctor ended up becoming the Chief Medical Examiner." He picked up his drink and watched her over the top of it. "I mean, it's rather a leap, am I right?"

Maura licked her lips nervously. "I... I was born in the Boston area, and adopted out to my parents. I came back to Boston Cambridge University here and... I suppose you could say I just felt a calling of sorts to come back."

"You're adopted?" Murphy asked curiously, and at Maura's nod, he simply nodded and picked up his beer. After having a long sip of the liquid, he then lowered it and asked, "So how did you hear about the position becoming available?"

"My old BCU professor told me about it," Maura said quickly, looking down at her glass of water, running her finger around the rim of it, wondering what they were going to talk about now. Surely there could not be too much more to say... they had already discussed work. Perhaps they would like to talk about what their expectations would be from her? Maybe they'd like to talk about their latest case, or something similar? "What..." she began, at the same time as Korsak spoke.

"Now..."

Both paused, looking at each other, and Murphy laughed, taking another sip of beer. Maura looked at him wonderingly before turning back to Korsak. "Oh! I'm sorry Detective Korsak... please go first."

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she nodded eagerly. "Okay. I was just going to say that now that question is out of the way, we might get to know each other a little more personally. I'm a huge animal lover, myself, and I was just wondering if you have any pets?"

Both men looked at her, and Maura looked between them before answering, licking her lips. "I... I have a tortoise." She waited for the teasing remarks that, in her experience, were almost guaranteed to come, but Korsak simply looked fascinated.

"A tortoise? Wow, how long have you had him? Or her? How big is it now?"

"What's its name?" Murphy broke in, and Maura looked between the two of them once more, a slow smile breaking out on her face.

"His name is Bass..." she began, with growing confidence.

She was going to be just fine.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

It had only been just under two weeks that Maura had been a part of the team at Boston Police Department, and already she felt a stronger sense of belonging than she ever had in her life till that point. Susie, she had discovered, was actually straight – she was dating a man who worked as an IT professional – she just highly respected and admired Maura, with a kind of straightforwardness that served to make Maura feel a little overwhelmed. She was not used to being admired so greatly. Even though she was undoubtedly intelligent, and apparently brilliant at what she did, admiration was not a quality she had ever created in her fellow workmates in great droves. Many of them, in the past, simply thought she was too odd to admire greatly. Meanwhile, here, Korsak and Murphy were still getting used to her way of working, but both had to admit that her integrity and dedication to using only accurate terminology was actually a Godsend. In her short two weeks, she had already helped to solve two murders, one of which Murphy told her on the quiet that he didn't think they would have been able to solve without her, creating a sort of quiet, fiercely burning pride inside her chest that she quickly found was quite addictive. Both cases were still ongoing, of course, paperwork needing to be completed and court cases still ongoing – it's not quite like on the TV, after all – but Maura took pride in the fact that she had performed her job well.

Of course, not all was perfect... on her third 'official' day at work, she had met a 'Detective Crowe', and, while she had been perfectly polite to him, he had sneered at her and watched her methods with a beady eye. It did not take him long to give her a nickname: 'Queen of the Dead'. While nicknames amongst friends are supposed to signify unity and comfort, Maura knew that this was not one of those times. The nickname was supposed to hurt... and it did. Luckily, it had not taken long for Detectives Korsak and Murphy to pick up on the name... and when they did, they 'tore strips' off Detective Crowe, threatening him with all manner of things, and he had quickly stopped calling her that. She could still feel him sneering at her quietly, the name being passed around under people's breath, but it didn't bother her all that much. For the first time in her life, she had someone standing up for her, and that felt good.

"We have a woman, looks to be late twenties, early thirties, ligature marks around her throat which seem to indicate strangling and asphyxiation. There are other marks on her body however, so we're thinking maybe battered spouse?" Korsak told Maura quickly as she got out of her car. Retrieving her bag out of the car, Maura nodded thoughtfully.

"Where was she found?"

Korsak shut the car door behind her. Maura smiled gratefully and quickly pushed her central locking button, ducking under the tape that Korsak pulled up for her. "She was in a dumpster."

"Any needle marks or puncture wounds on the skin?"

Korsak frowned at her as they headed towards the small group of policemen circled around the side of a building. "Not that I saw. Why, what are you thinking?"

"I'm not thinking anything yet," Maura answered crisply. "Not until I see the body."

"Right. Of course," Korsak said with a smile. "My mistake."

Maura sighed, glancing over at him. "I am sorry, but you know..."

"... that you don't like to guess," Korsak finished with a grin. "It's fine, Maura. It's why you're such a brilliant M.E."

Still not used to such exuberant praise, Maura flushed and inclined her head in thanks, excusing herself to get closer to the body. Standing next to the victim was Detective Murphy, and Maura smiled genuinely at seeing him. He had a small frown on his face and was rubbing his arm, seemingly in discomfort, though, and did not see her.

"Hello, Detective Murphy," she said cheerily, though she looked at him in concern. "Are you alright?"

Starting slightly, he looked up at her. "Oh, hello, Dr Isles. Yes, I think I just pulled a muscle in my arm." He let go of said arm and shook it out, attempting to stand in a more natural position, but Maura couldn't help but notice the unusual stiffness to his upper body. Perhaps his arm was not the only thing bothering him, she mused, and couldn't help the small flash of alarm that sent through her. She had only known this man for less than two weeks but already he and Detective Korsak had made her feel more at home than she thought she had ever felt in her life before. She knew he was approaching retirement... he himself had said that he would retire at the end of the year... and she hoped now, looking at him, that that retirement date would not be pushed forward.

Giving him one last concerned glance, she looked down at the body in front of her. "I assume she's been searched for an ID?"

"Yes," Murphy answered immediately, his left arm – the one that was not sore – now rubbing at his neck. "We have a couple of uniforms on the way with tyvek suits though... we'll get them to check the dumpster thoroughly in case it fell out."

Maura nodded, feeling her frown getting even more pronounced as she looked at Murphy concernedly. "Is your neck sore too?"

He immediately let go of it and smiled reassuringly. "Just a little bit of tension, I'm fine."

Maura bit her lip but nodded, looking down at the body again. She had already donned her gloves on the walk from the car – a force of habit that she was barely even aware of anymore - so she knelt beside the young woman and looked at her neck. "Definitely ligature marks, which indicates some form of strangulation."

"Pre or post-mortem?"

Maura shook her head. "I won't be able to tell you that until I get her back to the morgue."

"The van is on its way," Murphy said, and the slight breathless quality of his voice made Maura glance up in concern again. She immediately got to her feet when she saw him rubbing at his chest. "Detective Murphy?"

"I just..." he panted roughly, "can't seem to catch my breath..."

Maura felt her own heart speeding up as a panic attack loomed threateningly. "Detective Korsak!" she yelled out quickly, and almost instantly, the reassuring sight of his face appeared to her left. "I need you to call an ambulance," she told him and to his credit, he asked no questions. He simply glanced at his partner, then pulled out his mobile phone.

Maura led Murphy over to a seat and rubbed his arm reassuringly.

_Please_, she prayed silently, for what though, she wasn't sure.

_Just... please..._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"It wasn't a heart attack."

Maura and Korsak both sighed heavily in relief, looking at Murphy in his hospital bed. It was odd, Maura thought... he was usually so full of life, and to see him now... _it's the human condition_, she reminded herself sternly. _Don't get emotional._

"So, what..." Korsak began, and Murphy shifted uncomfortably.

"Well... it was my _heart_... but it wasn't a _heart attack._"

"Arrhythmia?" Maura asked quietly, and Murphy looked at her.

"Yeah. Something like that. It's, uh..." he looked down, picking at his bedspread, "it's apparently pretty serious."

"How serious?" Korsak asked, frowning.

"I need an operation. Doctor will let me do two more weeks of work though – desk duty – I'll get to say goodbye..."

Korsak looked up at the ceiling, exhaling a deep breath through his nostrils, and Maura looked between the two men, feeling like an intruder upon their mutual distress.

"Doc just wants to keep me overnight... for observation..." Murphy continued, in a purposely cheery voice, and Maura couldn't help the sudden tears that filled her eyes. _Stop being so emotional_, she berated herself, recalling the words her mother had spoken to her so many times, but she couldn't help the quiet gasp that escaped her lips. She had only just begun to settle in, and now everything was going to change... what if Korsak's next partner didn't like her? What if he managed to turn Korsak against her too, and what if they both began calling her by the awful nickname, Queen of the Dead (a nickname Maura thought she actually hated _more_ than Maura the bore-a) and...

She was distracted by Murphy clicking his tongue sympathetically and holding his hand out to her. She gripped it tightly, as though it were a lifeline, moving closer to his bed, Korsak moving obligingly so she could fit, but still staying close enough so she could feel his comforting presence. "I'm sorry..." she gasped out quietly, pulling one hand away to wipe at the tears that still fell down her face traitorously, and Murphy smiled warmly at her.

"You're going to be fine, Maura," he whispered quietly.

"You're going to be just fine."

Three days later, Maura met his replacement. A woman.

Called Jane Rizzoli.

And she wondered just how 'fine' she would actually be.

_**END CHAPTER ELEVEN**_

_Thoughts?_

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	12. Chapter 12

_It's not going to be a smooth ride..._

_Updating a little bit earlier than I would normally due to having a staff meeting tonight... blaaah. :-P_

Chapter Twelve

**_"_****_Do you believe in soulmates?" Beatie asked quietly. Grace sat on the riverbank in front of her, leaning against her chest peacefully. It was only three weeks since their first kiss, but Beatie already felt as though her whole life had changed irreversibly. It was terrifying, for sure... but she couldn't be happier if she tried._**

**_"_****_Soulmates? As in, one person you are meant to spend all of your life with?" Grace asked, twisting around slightly to look at Beatie's face. At Beatie's nod, Grace turned back around and looked into the water thoughtfully. "I... I don't know. I don't think so."_**

**_Beatie frowned. "You don't think that we were made to be together?"_**

**_"_****_Well, think of the logical facts of the situation. There are, what, 2 and a half billion people in the world..."_**

**_"_****_How do you know this stuff?" Beatie asked wonderingly, but Grace ignored her, continuing._**

**_"_****_The odds of meeting that one person that you are supposed to spend the rest of your life with are just... astronomical. Plus you have to consider the fact that perhaps they were born on another continent, and what if you did not have the means or the motive to travel, and nor did your 'soulmate'? Then you have to consider the many variables... the hundreds, _****thousands ****_of decisions that we make on a daily basis that can change our whole life fortune. For example, what if I had decided not to walk home along Snowy Creek Bridge that day? What if I had taken an alternate route, or left five minutes earlier, or later? _****Two ****_minutes earlier or later? Perhaps you would have drowned, and then what of me? Am I supposed to never meet anyone, never fall in love?"_**

**_"_****_Well, that's a cheery view," Beatie said grouchily. "But still, you _****did ****_walk home via that bridge, you _****did ****_see me, you _****did ****_save my life. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"_**

**_"_****_Yes," Grace replied slowly. "It means that through an entirely fortunate set of events that occurred because things happening at precisely the right time, I was able to meet you and fall in love."_**

**_"_****_Meet me, yell at me, _****then ****_fall in love," Beatie corrected, and she felt Grace smile as she turned her head against Beatie's chest._**

**_"_****_Yes, that too."_**

**_"_****_But..." Beatie argued after a brief period of silence, unable to let the topic go, "doesn't that argue _****for ****_soulmates in itself? The fact that everything happened at precisely the right time?"_**

**_"_****_Well, that's different to soulmates," Grace replied. "You're talking about destiny, about a pre-ordained future. You're saying that everything that is ever supposed to happen in our futures is already mapped out, that we have no free will."_**

**_Beatie frowned. "No... not exactly." She looked down into the water herself, trying to collect her thoughts. "I think we _****do ****_have free will... but I think the big events in our life are... are meant to happen. What did you say? Pee-orgained?"_**

**_"_****_Pre-ordained," Grace giggled, and Beatie smiled, feeling the noise rumble inside her chest._**

**_"_****_Yes! That! I think the big things are meant to be. I think that I was _****meant ****_to meet you that day, that no matter what had happened, that even if poor old Jeremy..." she paused for a second, thinking of Jeremy Wilder who had ended up brain damaged from lack of oxygen after his attempt at suicide, "had... I don't know, died at an early age from smallpox, you and I would still have met on that bridge. Or maybe somewhere else, again I don't know, but I think we would have met."_**

**_Grace turned fully to look at her. "Do you really think so?"_**

**_"_****_I do," Beatie replied emphatically. "I really do. I was meant to be with you, Grace Henderson. I feel it in my bones."_**

**_Grace smiled, turning so she could lean against Beatie's chest again, and when she spoke, it was so quiet that Beatie had to lean forward to hear. "What you're saying... there is no proof to any of it. But..." Beatie could almost feel Grace's eyes sliding shut as she breathed in deeply, "I believe it too. We were meant to be."_**

**_"_****_I love you, my saving Grace."_**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane could almost feel the confusion coming off the woman in the doorway in waves, and she wasn't faring much better. Blinking at her, she half stood up then sat down again, feeling stupid. She was all too aware of the eyes of all four occupants of the room, and was convinced they were all on her... but when she tore her gaze away from Maura (_'__I'm Maura, by the way.' 'J... Tiffany')_, she realized that they weren't. At least, not all of them. Michaels was looking at her with narrowed eyes – she was fairly certain that man never missed a trick – but Korsak and Murphy were both still smiling at Maura. Maura, of course... her gaze was focused solely on Jane, her brows drawn together in bewilderment.

"Are... have you been arrested?" Maura finally asked blankly, and Jane couldn't help the derisive laugh that slipped out. Almost immediately, Maura drew back, her expression offended, and Jane winced. She opened her mouth but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

"Jane Rizzoli is a Boston Police Detective," Lieutenant Michaels said suddenly, his speech efficient as he apparently realized what the complication was. Jane smiled at him in gratitude. "Any other capacity you have seen her in would not have been as her true self."

Maura (_Dr. Isles, must be professional!) _looked at Jane in dawning realization. "You were undercover?"

"Yes," Jane said awkwardly. "I'm not actually a hooker. Uh... clearly."

"But... you had no money..." Maura frowned, looking at Jane closely as though seriously wondering if she had feigned the whole scenario to gain some food.

"No, I didn't. I left my wallet at home... at my temporary home anyway... I hadn't eaten in 24 hours..." Maura's look of disbelief hadn't changed, and Jane lost her temper suddenly. "Look, I'll pay you back for the damn donut and yoghurt, okay?"

"There was a salad too," Maura replied waspishly, and Jane rolled her eyes so hard it actually hurt.

"Fine. I'll pay you back for the salad too."

"And a coffee."

"You didn't even give me the coffee!"

"I still bought it for you!"

Jane turned in her seat to face Maura more fully, her hand propping itself on her hip. "I don't...!" she started angrily, but was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.

"Uh..." Detective Korsak said, and Jane jumped a little bit. She had forgotten that there were other people in the room. "Well..." he looked at Detective Murphy for help, but Murphy was sitting back, looking completely nonplussed, staring between the two women cautiously.

"Is there a problem, Dr Isles? Detective Rizzoli?" Michaels finally asked, sounding irritated, and both women glanced at each other once more.

"No problem," Jane replied, looking away, towards the wall.

"No, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," Maura said too, her tone of voice considerably more polite than Jane's own. Jane rolled her eyes.

"You are going to be working in close proximity, you two," Michaels said warningly. Jane glanced at him and frowned irritably when she realized he was focusing the majority of his attention on her, and not on Dr Isles. "I expect you to have a cordial working relationship."

"I'm sure that will be fine," Maura replied. "I am certainly capable of remaining professional." Jane glared at her. She was sure that she wasn't imagining the carefully subtle emphasis that Maura had placed on the word 'I'.

"I am too," Jane said quickly, and Michaels looked at both women closely for a short period before nodding in satisfaction.

"Fine then." He turned his attention solely to Maura, nodding down to the papers she still held in her hands. "Do you have anything in there that you need to explain to Detectives Korsak and Murphy, Dr Isles?"

Maura had been staring at Jane, and drew a deep breath when her name was mentioned, her attention abruptly shifting to the lieutenant. "I... I'm sorry, I..." she took another deep breath, appearing to collect herself, and started again. "No. Everything is written in layman's terms so they should find it reasonably easy to understand. If they have any questions, they know where to find me." She smiled genuinely at the two men, and Jane couldn't help but blink in surprise once more. It shouldn't have come as a shock, her beauty – Jane had seen it before, _and_ seen her smile before – but somehow, she was still surprised by it. In fact, surprise was probably not even the right word... _awe_ would be more accurate.

"Right. Well, then..." Michaels held out his hand and Maura jumped slightly, a flush lighting up her face.

"Oh... oh, yes. Here you go." She handed over the file, and, with another glance at Jane, turned to leave the room.

"Dr Isles," Michaels called, and Maura turned, her face looking almost guilty. Jane frowned. "I ask that you please not disclose Detective Rizzoli's presence here to anyone. Nothing is official yet, until I make the announcement."

The change that came over Maura's face at this point would have been, had it been relating to anyone else, almost comical. As it was, Jane couldn't help but feel slightly insulted as Maura's face fell, her expression apropos of one who'd just seen her dog hit by a car. "Detective Rizzoli... will be taking over for... for Detective Murphy?"

"What did you think he meant when he said we'd be working in close proximity?" Jane couldn't help but grouse, but she was not prepared for the look of pure poison that Maura sent her way.

"I am the _Chief Medical Examiner_," she replied in a quiet but irritated tone. "You will be working in _homicide_. You do the math."

Jane blinked. _Chief _Medical Examiner? ...Wow. "I... oh."

"Hmm," Maura hummed, pursing her lips and turning back to Lieutenant Michaels. He simply raised an eyebrow. Maura dropped her gaze briefly, and he continued.

"Yes," he said quickly, as though there had no interruption at all. "As things stand at this point, it looks as though Detective Rizzoli will be taking over from Detective Murphy. She has a brilliant track record in the drug unit, and I'm sure she will not disappoint."

Jane felt Maura's eyes on her once more, and met the gaze defiantly, sure that she was going to see an expression of disbelief. What she saw though, gave her pause. It was a look, if Jane had to put a name to it, of quiet consideration. "I don't doubt it, sir. I'm sure we will work well together." Maura nodded her head respectfully to Korsak, Murphy, and Michaels, then, after a brief pause, nodded her head to Jane too. "Thank you. I will see you later."

She quietly walked out of the room, shutting the door almost silently behind her, and Jane stared at the door blankly for a few seconds.

"So," she finally said with an overloud laugh, turning back to the men in the room, "that was our Chief M.E., huh?"

The men turned their gazes to her, and Jane sighed.

Perhaps not the most auspicious beginning.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"So... what's the deal between you and Maura?"

Jane looked up at Korsak, who was watching her closely. She immediately dropped her gaze again. "I... uh... hey, this isn't the usual police bar, is it?" The attempt to change the subject was shockingly obvious, she knew, but she couldn't help it. The truth was, she didn't _know_ why she had reacted so strongly to Maura's presence... both the first time, and the time in the interrogation room. The first time, yes, could be blamed on the fact that she was hungry, tired and humiliated at the time... but there were no such circumstances the last time. Maura just... seemed to rub her up the wrong way, and Jane had no clue why.

"No," Korsak replied easily. "We're trying this place out. Maura didn't like the other bar."

_Maura didn't like_... Jane shook her head, but decided to reply very simply with a, "Oh."

"I don't think she's had a real easy life," Korsak continued, looking at Jane closely. Jane frowned.

"Not an easy life?! Have you _looked_ at her? That skirt she was wearing yesterday probably cost more than my entire wardrobe combined!"

"Having money doesn't automatically make an _easy_ life, Rizzoli," Murphy said shrewdly. He, also, was watching Jane closely, and she shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though she were under a microscope.

"Well... yeah, I guess so..." she muttered finally. Thankfully, their order came at this point and Jane had a reasonable excuse to not talk for a little while as they sorted out what drinks and food belonged to which person. All too soon though, they were all sorted out and she felt their gazes on the top of her bent head again. "Look," she said finally, rubbing her eyes tiredly, "I don't know why I reacted that way to her, okay? We met when I was undercover as a hooker, she offered me money for food and when I refused it, she bought it for me anyway. And I..." she rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, feeling the tension building up in the muscles there, "I guess I didn't respond all that well then either."

Korsak picked up a fry and swirled it through the tomato sauce he had tipped onto his plate, all the time watching her closely. "Was she rude to you?" he asked, and Jane whipped her head up to look at him. She suspected he already knew the answer.

"No," she answered reluctantly. "She was... nice. Nicer than I was, anyway. I just... I just took it the wrong way."

"Meaning your pride was hurt," Murphy said, and Jane glanced at him. She didn't like the way he seemed able to read her so easily, but she supposed she couldn't really resent him his ability... he was right, after all.

"She wore a glove!" Jane piped up suddenly, determined to redeem her behaviour in some small way. "So she wouldn't have to touch me, touch my skin! That was... that was a little bit rude."

Korsak popped the fry in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I don't think she would have done it to be rude though."

Jane rolled her eyes. _Of course not._

"No, I happen to agree," Murphy piped up, and she looked at him cautiously. "While I'm no doctor, I think there's something there with Maura..."

"Autism?" Korsak suggested.

"It would have to be an extremely high-functioning form... no, I was thinking more along the lines of Aspergers."

"Hmm, that _does_ make sense..." Korsak agreed, and Jane, whose head had been going back and forth between the two like she had been watching a tennis match, had had enough.

"Wait, wait, wait... just because she puts on a glove, she has this Aspergers thing? Maybe that's just what she wants people to think to excuse her rudeness!"

The looks that both Korsak and Murphy shot her at this point made Jane feel ashamed of herself. She cleared her throat and looked down at her plate, picking at her burger half-heartedly.

"So what would be your excuse then, Rizzoli?" Korsak asked, and Jane glanced up through her eyelashes, only to see him smiling back at her. Only a half smile, to be sure, but a smile nonetheless. She heaved a sigh.

"Sorry. I, uh... I'll behave."

"Good," Korsak replied, picking up his knife and fork. The conversation seemed over, but Jane could still feel eyes on her, so she turned slowly and looked at Murphy, whose clear green eyes were focused on hers unblinkingly, a strange look in them. _Concern?_ she wondered, but that didn't seem quite right... _compassion_, she thought next, but that didn't fit either.

"Don't let your pride blind you to the true reason you're here," he said softly, finally and Jane blinked, turning to look at Korsak, but he looked as baffled as she felt.

"Uh... okay," she said finally, and when that didn't seem enough, she added, "I won't. I promise." At that, Murphy nodded, looking back at his meal, and Jane sighed heavily. "Uh... so, the Red Sox, anyone a fan?"

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_It was a dream, Jane realized; the kind of dream where you know you're dreaming... but it was also a memory. Because she, Jane, was approaching Grace's house, but she wasn't really Jane, was she? She was Beatie. She was shorter, her body much thicker and more solid than the body she occupied as Jane Rizzoli. And the woman, in that house... it was Maura. It was Maura, in Grace's body. Jane smiled inwardly. Yes! It was so obvious, how could she have missed it? Maura was Grace, Grace was Maura. Her search was over; she had found who she was searching for._**

**_The sight of her own hand reaching forward and knocking at the front door startled her. She hadn't even realized that she had walked to the front door, and she had no recollection of doing so... but that was the funny things about dreams, wasn't it? And even about memories... the boring parts – the parts of no real significance – they tended to disappear after a time._**

**_The door opened, and Jane heard Grace's voice speak coldly: "What are you doing here?"_**

**_And, although she had not yet made the conscious decision to speak, nor did she have the slightest clue what she was about to say, Jane felt her mouth open as she responded. "You need to listen to me."_**

**_"_****_I think you said everything you needed to say, when you spoke to Mrs Wilder."_**

**_"_****_Ok," Beatie replied, "but in all fairness, you weren't supposed to _****hear ****_that."_**

**_Grace rolled her eyes, her hand on the door, the door shutting, and Jane felt a desperation that did not belong to her as Beatie's hand shot out, preventing the door from closing._**

**_"_****_Wait!" she half shouted. "Wait, I'm s... what I meant to say is... I didn't mean it."_**

**_Grace leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed firmly against her chest. "So why would you say it?"_**

**_"_****_Because... because I was angry... I was upset. I... I almost lost my friend that day... I kind of _****have ****_lost him... and you were there, and..."_**

**_"_****_And so you thought you would say that the only reason I jumped in to save him, was so that I could be thought a hero? So I could get my name in the paper?"_**

**_"_****_I didn't mean it," Beatie repeated pathetically, and Grace rolled her eyes, standing up straight once more, her hand back on the door._**

**_"_****_Well, you know what, Elizabeth?"_**

**_She wasn't Beatie yet, was she... no..._**

**_"_****_When you figure out what you _****do ****_mean, let me know."_**

**_"_****_You're not even going to let me apologize?" Elizabeth asked, her tone one of outrage, and Grace pursed her lips._**

**_"_****_I haven't heard an apology yet," she replied coldly._**

**_Elizabeth stared at Grace, her mouth opening... but Jane could hear her thoughts, and she winced at the anger of them. _****Why should I apologize... why should I be the one to say sorry... she was the one who was eavesdropping! ****_"_****_You're not going to get one then!" Elizabeth cried angrily. "I just came to explain, but if you're not even going to listen..."_**

**_"_****_You can go," Grace said, sighing heavily, and Elizabeth faltered at the sadness in her eyes. Her own rage was such though, that she did not allow her compassion to slow her down for long... she turned and, with a flurry, began making her way down the path in a temper, her feet carrying her in the direction of her home, but a loud voice gave her pause._**

**_"_****_Elizabeth! Miss Wilder, please..."_**

**_Jane felt Elizabeth's feet slowing... stopping... turning her around, and she looked curiously at this new person. "Mr Henderson, I wish to go home," she heard Elizabeth's voice say roughly, and it was only then she realized how close her past self was to tears._**

**_"_****_I heard you arguing with my daughter," he said quickly, and Elizabeth looked away._**

**_"_****_Yes... well..."_**

**_"_****_Please, Elizabeth..."he murmured, and his hand reached out, landing on her shoulder in father-like comfort. "I see your friendship... how happy it's made my Grace... how happy it's made _****you****_..." Elizabeth looked down, the tears now threatening to spill over from behind closed lids. "Just..." he let his hand drop from her shoulder, "don't let your pride blind you to the true reason you're here." She looked up at him, and he shrugged. "Apologize. That's all she needs."_**

**_'_****_You just need to apologize."_**

Jane opened her eyes and blinked. What a strange dream... those oddly emphasized words of Detective Murphy's that afternoon must have triggered the flashback of her past life. She couldn't help but think that there was something in that dream that she had to remember though... something important. Something relating to Grace, perhaps? Who she was? How to find her?

Jane glanced at the clock. It was only 3am. Resolving to think about it more in the morning, she closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep again.

But by the next morning, she'd forgotten her dream altogether.

**_END CHAPTER TWELVE_**

_Thoughts?_

_Love to all, -Katie xoxo_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

It had been a week since their first 'official' meeting, and while Maura's interactions with Jane had been far more polite than their initial meetings, there was still a certain frostiness to Jane's tone during their occasional conversations that Maura couldn't help but notice. Of course, her own voice had an air of coldness about it too... so she supposed she shouldn't be too surprised after all.

The shift for Jane into homicide had not yet been made official, but the way Lieutenant Michaels talked, and the conversations that Detectives Korsak and Murphy had, all led Maura to the foregone conclusion: it was a certainty. Jane Rizzoli would _definitely_ be joining the team, she would _definitely _be partnered with Korsak, and Maura would _definitely_ be the M.E. that they worked the most closely with. So, one way or another, she would have to find a way to get along with Jane Rizzoli... and Jane Rizzoli would have to find a way to get along with her.

Thinking about it, Maura wasn't entirely sure where things had gone wrong. In fact, no, that was stating things a little too serenely... she had absolutely no idea where things had gone wrong. Really, that initial meeting where Jane was undercover, she had actually thought that they were getting on quite well. But then, of course, she had commented about the sorts of people that 'Tiffany' must meet... and Jane had reacted poorly. Perhaps her comment had been in poor taste, and _that_ was why Jane had reacted so? Should she have phrased it differently, used alternate wording? Perhaps it did not come across as the polite observation that Maura had intended, and actually come across as quite insulting? But then... _why_ would Jane find it insulting? It's not as though she were _actually_ a hooker. She was just pretending to be one. So really, shouldn't she have just laughed and agreed? Maura shook her head. No matter how long and hard she puzzled over things like this, she never fully understood the motives behind why people did the things they did. It seemed so much simpler if people just said what they thought... but then she had been told that that was socially inappropriate too. She should _not_ just blurt out her thoughts at any given time, because she could possibly insult others, even if she had not meant to be insulting at all. Constance Isles, Maura's mother, had told her that, and while Maura didn't understand, she still listened and tried to remember. Of course, there were moments that she forgot... like with Jane.

Still, Maura mused, Jane's reaction was not the only thing that puzzled her about their initial interactions... her own responses had been curious too, to say the least. Yes, Jane had been angry, but her whole life Maura had been more of a 'peacekeeper' than an argumentative person. She hated the very thought of scowling faces and raised voices... and so had done everything in her power to ensure everyone was peaceful and happy. But with Jane, she found herself responding in a way that was entirely unlike her usual self. She had gotten angry. She had, in actual fact, stood up for herself... and that was, for her, an utterly bizarre sensation. The truth of the matter was, Jane elicited a response from her that was previously unheard of before. At least, it was unheard of from _Maura_. Jane made her feel... Maura shook her head again, unable to come up with a correct adjective. _Alive_ was somehow true, but it wasn't quite right. _Happy_... no, not that either. _Inspired_ wasn't it, nor was _passionate, comfortable _or _easy_. No, none of them were quite right, and Maura wasn't sure what the right word _was_...

_Belonging_...

The word floated into her mind's eye unbidden, and Maura found herself blinking down at her paperwork. It was, somehow, the word that fit the most appropriately, despite how _inappropriate_ it seemed. Jane could barely look at her without sneering, and she could hardly look at Jane... yet she instilled a sense of belonging in Maura that she had only ever caught glimpses of before. It was utterly bizarre and in its own way, completely terrifying. Why would Maura feel a sense of belonging to a woman who could barely stand her presence? Was this her fate? Was she destined to a life where she never truly fit in anywhere? And if so, _why?_

The sound of the phone ringing pulled Maura out of her thoughts and she shook her head firmly, reminding herself that she didn't believe in fate or destiny. _Scientific data_... she reminded herself sternly, and, before the phone could ring a fourth time, she picked it up, feeling quite calm once more.

"Isles," she said into the phone piece, looking down at her paperwork and already lamenting the precious lost minutes that she had wasted being consumed by her thoughts.

"Hello Dr Isles, this is Lieutenant Michaels."

Maura sat up quickly, a small frown on her face. "Lieutenant? Yes? Is there anything wrong?" With a sudden stab of worry, she quickly asked, "Is Detective Murphy alright? Is it his heart? Have you called an ambulance? What are his symptoms? Never mind, I'll be right there!"

"Detective Murphy is fine," Michaels replied quickly, a smile evident in his voice. Maura let out a sigh of relief, sinking back down onto her chair. Come to think of it, she did not even recall standing up. "No, I am not calling about him."

"Oh," Maura said, looking back down at her paperwork and wondering if it would be considered impolite to ask _why_ then, he was calling. After the silence had stretched on for several long seconds, she could not help herself however. "So do you mind if I ask..."

"I will be making the announcement today about Detective Rizzoli's promotion and subsequent move to homicide." Maura let her eyes slowly fall shut, and did not say anything. "It will also," he continued, when it became apparent that Maura's silence was ongoing, "be an opportunity for me to formally announce Detective Murphy's retirement."

Maura cleared her throat before speaking, attempting to rid it of the ball of emotion that seemed to have found lodgings there. "Most... most people are already aware of his retirement though, sir."

"Yes," Michaels agreed patiently. "I still am required to make the formal announcement however."

"Of... of course," Maura said, shaking her head resolutely. "I..."

"I was wondering if you might have time to make yourself present for this event," Michaels continued, cutting Maura off. It wasn't altogether a bad thing that he _had_ interrupted, Maura considered. She really wasn't sure what she was going to say, anyway. As comprehension of the question finally dawned though, she found herself freezing in place. Lieutenant Michaels wanted _her_ to attend? Why? What could she possibly have to contribute? Would she, she suddenly thought with a stab of apprehension, be expected to contribute to the announcement? Would she be expected to perhaps say something about how excited she was to have Jane join the team, about how well she expected that they would work together? Well, she certainly couldn't say that, for starters. There simply wasn't enough empirical data to make such a broad estimate. In fact, if she was going to be truly honest – and it wasn't as though she really had a choice, most of the time – she would have to say that all evidence actually pointed to the contrary: that she and Jane would perhaps _not_ have a cordial working relationship. So how could she be expected to say anything of the sort? Of course, her colleagues were not yet aware of her peculiar reaction when she attempted to lie – and nor could they be expected to understand. It wasn't something that many people suffered from after all...

Suddenly remembering that she had not yet been actually asked to make any such speech, Maura cleared her throat with a delicate noise and spoke once more. "Certainly that would be feasible, Lieutenant Michaels but..." she hesitated, unsure of how to best phrase her concerns. She was also worried that her trepidation of speaking publicly would perhaps come across as rude... this was not her intention at all.

Perhaps understanding Maura better than she anticipated, Michaels was quick to reassure her. "I will be making the announcement, Dr Isles; your presence is simply requested, not expected. You will have no responsibilities as to the actual process of informing the others about the changes. Unless, of course," he added, almost as an afterthought, "you wish to say something..."

"No!" Maura blurted out hurriedly, and then flushed, looking down into her lap nervously, forgetting that Michaels couldn't see her. "That is to say... no, thank you. I... I find it unnecessary to add anything to what you are going to say."

There was silence on the other end of the phone line for several long seconds, and Maura found herself chewing at her lip worriedly. Was that impolite? But... Lieutenant Michaels had _said_ it wasn't expected... she didn't even have to attend if she was too busy. But...

Before she could continue her train of thought and finish her unneeded fretting, she realized that she could hear muffled voices on the other end of the line. _Of course_, she thought in relief, _he is a busy man, he is probably finding it necessary to talk to someone at the same time as he is on the phone to me_. And, completely ignoring her earlier worries about her own perceived rudeness, she sat patiently through the muffled conversation, not even giving mind to the idea that this in itself could be considered rude behaviour on the behalf of Lieutenant Michaels.

Finally, Lieutenant Michaels came back on the line, his voice harried. "I do apologize, Dr Isles."

Maura smiled patiently. "That's quite alright, Lieutenant."

"I will make the announcement today at around 11am. If you could be in attendance, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Certainly, I will..." the sound of a dial tone reached Maura's ear and she hung up the phone quietly, finishing to herself, "see you then." She glanced at her watch. 10am... she set an alarm on her phone for 10:55, then, resolutely setting her mind to the task in front of her, she started typing up her reports, and did not allow thoughts of Jane to cross her head again.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"As you are aware, things are always changing. Such is life. People move up, people move on... people find it necessary to leave this profession for whatever reason..."

Maura sidled up next to Korsak. He glanced around at the movement, shooting Maura a small smile, then both turned their attention back to Lieutenant Michaels, who was gesticulating far more passionately than he usually did, his tone excited. Maura blinked, wondering if she had entered at the wrong time, and if the lieutenant was perhaps making a speech about something entirely different. Glancing discreetly at her watch, Maura noted the time... 11:01am. No, it was definitely the right time. Perhaps noticing her perplexed expression, Korsak smiled indulgently and leaned in closer, whispering in her ear. "It's a well established fact 'round here," he murmured, "that Lieutenant Michaels should have been a motivational speaker. He likes the sound of his own voice."

Maura let out a surprised giggle, and hastily muffled it by placing her hand over her mouth, but she still felt eyes on hers almost instantly, and she glanced up guiltily. She half expected to see Lieutenant Michaels glaring at her reproachfully, but he still droned on, his gaze focused elsewhere, so she allowed her gaze to wander about the room. Most of the officers were standing around with hands behind their back, either staring at Detective Murphy with an expression of utter boredom, or at Jane with quiet contempt and distrust... or even an emotion that Maura dared to identify as out and out jealousy. None of them were looking at Maura though, so she looked up again towards the lieutenant, this time looking at the people standing either side of him. Murphy was not looking at her; his hands were folded behind his back and his gaze was directed somewhere slightly south of the ceiling, so finally, she bit her lip and glanced at Jane, whose dark eyes met hers instantly, the look in them inscrutable. Maura, inexplicably, felt her heart speed up and quickly dropped her gaze, her amusement long since forgotten. Feeling another set of eyes on her, she glanced to the side to see Korsak watching her curiously. "Are you alright?"

Maura glanced up towards Jane once more. The impenetrable gaze met hers once more, briefly, then looked away, and Maura felt the breath leave her lungs in one big whoosh. "I'm fine," she breathed quietly. "I'm just fine."

And as Lieutenant Michaels spoke on, she could almost believe it.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

_When Maura was five years old, she had had an imaginary friend. No one ever knew about her, because even at age 5, Maura was able to recognise that adults considered her strange. She had no desire to compound that belief, so while she never lied, she also never mentioned it. A 'lie by omission', if you wished to call it that... but since it made Maura feel uncomfortable, she tried not to think of it that way. It wasn't a lie... it was just a secret._

_So no one ever found out about 'Beatie'._

_Maura was never sure where Beatie had come from. It seemed like she just walked into her head one day, fully formed, but with deliberate mistakes. For example, Maura never knew what she looked like. You would think, young Maura had thought one day (an unusually complex thought for a child her age, but not unusual at all for the peculiar child she was), that since Beatie was only an _imaginary_ friend, that Maura would simply be able to imagine her appearance. But... it just wasn't that simple. As vastly intelligent as she was for her age, Maura simply still didn't have the vocabulary necessary to explain that it simply felt _wrong_ to make up false things about Beatie. It felt... like a betrayal of sorts. She would not, for instance, ever dream of describing someone that she had never met, or never seen a picture of, because she would have nothing to base her description on. It felt the same with Beatie. She had not met her, so if she declared inwardly that Beatie had, for instance, long black curly hair and she actually had blonde hair, it would be planting an incorrect image, which would be as bad as a lie in Maura's book. So Beatie became an invisible friend... though that didn't seem quite right either. It felt, Maura considered, more like... like she just wasn't _ready_ to see Beatie yet. She wasn't ready to be properly introduced, and Beatie knew this, and thus kept herself properly hidden._

_The second thing that Maura didn't understand, and that she had wondered about many a time, was why Beatie was called 'Beatie'. Her name, she knew, was actually Elizabeth. She could not remember being told this information... she just knew it was true, just like she had learnt about Beatie in the first place: the knowledge seemed to just appear in her head, as though it had always been there..._

_"__Can I call you Elizabeth?" Maura asked quietly, half her mind concentrating on the 200 piece jigsaw laid out in front of her, the other half listening for the soft rustle of her friends movements._

_There was a gentle sigh. "I'd prefer not, if you don't mind."_

_"__Why not?" Maura laid a piece into its place and glanced up, looking around the empty room, searching it for a face she had long since accepted she would not see._

_The voice was amused when it answered. "Why do you always do that?"_

_"__Do what?" Maura dropped her gaze and picked up another puzzle piece, tapping it against her front teeth thoughtfully, finally laying it down in the rough position she thought it belonged._

_"__You always look for me."_

_"__I dunno." Maura blinked, cleared her throat. "I don't know," she repeated, ensuring to enunciate each word properly, just like her mother had taught her. "I suppose I just wan... _wish_ to see you."_

_There was a silence in which Maura could clearly imagine colourless, shapeless lips curving up to form an unseeable smile. "You asked me why I don't want to be called Elizabeth."_

_"__Yes." Maura sat up tall, her head tilting unconsciously as she strived to hear even the slightest sound._

_"__It's because..." there was a soft sigh, "that's not your name for me. Your name for me is Beatie."_

_"__Why?"_

_"__That..." the voice murmured, the tone almost sad. If Maura had yet known the word 'wistful', she would have used it to best describe the inflection, "is a story that is not for today."_

_"__Soon?"_

_"__Perhaps..." Beatie murmured, and Maura sighed, her head bent to her task once more, the disembodied voice almost forgotten for another day._

_Beatie had stayed in Maura's life for a year. The day she turned six, Maura had woken while it was still dark to a soft voice singing 'Amazing Grace'. Struggling to open her eyes still, Maura had sat up, running her hand over her face blearily. "Beatie?"_

_"__I'm here," the soft voice replied. "Happy birthday, angel."_

_"__Thank you," Maura said, her voice hesitant... why did Beatie sound so sad? "Are you okay?"_

_Beatie sighed, and Maura felt the ghost of a hand smoothing down her hair. "No."_

_Maura felt a rush of fear and struggled to free herself from her covers. "Why? What's wrong?"_

_"__I have to go."_

_"__Go? What? But..." Maura struggled against the covers some more, finally freeing her legs, but then she wasn't sure what to do. She was only a child after all and Beatie was, undoubtedly, even if she couldn't be seen, an adult. And didn't adults tend to do exactly what _they_ want, with no regard for their children? "I don't want you to go," she finally settled on saying, her eyes beginning to water._

_"__I have to, my angel." Again, Maura felt that ghost touch against her head. "Don't worry. You'll meet me again soon enough."_

_Two hot tears spilled down Maura's cheeks, followed by more in quick succession, and she grasped fruitlessly at her sheets, raging internally at the great injustice of it all. "Soon enough isn't soon enough!" she growled petulantly, and, to her reluctant delight, she heard the peal of Beatie's laughter._

_"__I know, dear one. But it will come more quickly than you imagine. Now," a gentle, invisible hand seemed to wipe at the tears on Maura's cheeks, "it's time for newly turned six-year-olds to be getting back to sleep!"_

_Maura climbed reluctantly back under the blankets, her glare into the dark reproachful. "You didn't even tell me why I call you Beatie."_

_"__It's a story that is not for today," Beatie replied, and Maura shook her head in disgust._

_"__But it's always today! Tomorrow never comes!"_

_Beatie's voice was patient. "It's for a different today, then."_

_Maura shook her head once more, but was distracted by the face splitting yawn that took her by surprise._

_"__Time for sleep, my angel," Beatie whispered, and before Maura could make more protests, she felt her eyelids growing heavy, the urge to sleep overpowering. As her eyes drifted shut, she heard a whisper. "Forget, my dear one. Forget, until we meet again. Forget, until I explain. Forget... until Jane."_

_Maura never spoke to Beatie again._

**END CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

_Thoughts?_

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	14. Chapter 14

_Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I appreciate each and every one, and I'm sorry I just don't get a chance to reply to them all. But just know that every single one is appreciated, as are all the follows/favourites. :-)_

Chapter Fourteen

**Not much is truly known about the soul. Many people have theories, some even come close to the truth, but in the end, all they are is guesses. There is no way on earth to accurately judge if any one theory, or indeed if every theory, is the truth, or is actually a lie.**

**The truth? A soul is a wonderful thing. It is mysterious, and powerful... and yet, it is weak too. The body's needs are simple: food, water, rest, toileting. For a body to survive, that is all you need, but a soul is so much more complicated. It needs love, affection, care, hope and something more powerful too: it needs a mate. Or, perhaps 'need' is too strong a word. It ****_desires _****it, above all else. It desires a mate.**

**'****Soulmate'... soulmate is such an interesting concept that humans have created. It is true, in a way, but perhaps not in the way you might expect. Every soul has a true mate, for sure... but every soul also has a thousand ****_almost _****mates that do the job almost as well. Then there are another thousand 'suitable' mates. Some people are so happy with their almost mate, or their suitable mate, that they do not realize their true mate is out there, and that's okay. Free will exists, and if souls were only allowed one soul with whom they truly bonded, the human race would not have grown as much as it has. But it is true that this one mate does exist... and those who find it, recognise it instantly for what it is. Even those who state a complete disbelief in any such thing, find it impossible to deny the way that he or she matches with their partner. It is truly like two puzzle pieces slotting together. Whereas the almost mate or the suitable mate will fit, there are slight gaps in the alignment. There are no such gaps in the true match... in the soul mate.**

**There is one misconception that is constant across all theories of souls... or, to be more precise, the theories that discuss the moment a soul enters a body... and this misconception is that, once a soul is in a body, that that is it. The truth is that it's not quite as simple as all that. A soul enters the body at the moment of conception: this part is accurate, but it leaves out the finer details. You see, the body, until it reaches 1000 days old (roughly 2.74 years after the moment of conception), is like a revolving door. In a child's first 24 months of life, their main concerns are food, love, and comfort... and, of course, sleep. The young child needs extra sleep to help process all that extra knowledge and that sleep - that downtime - is the reason that the soul has a chance to play, so to speak. To explore, to visit... **

**Elizabeth Mills... or, to use her former names, Sarah White or Molly Hart, was a wild soul. Even when she entered the earth at times when propriety was not merely expected, but ****_demanded_****, when women were not seen as people but as property, she was wild. She had a streak of fire that could not be controlled... but then, I suppose it was unsurprising that she is one of the ones who found her true mate, and not just in one life time but in all of them. But Grace Henderson... Bertha Wotcher, Evelyn Doherty... she is not one to underestimate either. While she follows the rules when transferring from one body to another, she is also vastly intelligent, and is able to bend the rules without really ever breaking them. She is clever... perhaps too clever.**

**After all, she is the reason that Jane Rizzoli escaped into the world with memories intact...**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane dumped her box of belongings onto her desk and looked around her new workspace curiously. Many gazes had followed her when she walked in – the most obvious of whom had his arms crossed across his chest, his lips turned up in a derisive smile as he stared at her blatantly. She had ignored him initially, striding right past him to her new desk, but when she still felt his gaze practically burning a hole in the back of her neck, she took a deep breath and whirled around, fixing him with a vicious glare.

He did not flinch at all, nor did his gaze drop.

_Damnit_.

"Can I help you?" she finally asked harshly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Korsak enter the room but rather than look around at him, she kept her gaze focused on the man in front of her; the man who infuriated her simply by the way he lounged so casually in his chair as though to assert his position of belonging.

"No," he murmured quietly, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face. Jane glared at him suspiciously for a few seconds, but eventually turned back to her desk, unpacking her box slowly, her hackles still raised in anticipation. In anticipation of what, she wasn't sure, until... "I wouldn't get too comfortable here though."

Jane gritted her teeth but refused to turn around. "And why not?"

"Oh... nothing..." she heard the creak of his chair and solid footsteps behind her and she whirled around quickly. Not for the first time, she found herself grateful for her height: she was able to stare this guy right in the eye as he raised a derisive eyebrow at her, "I just think that this department... it might be a little out of your league, Rizzoli."

Jane pursed her lips. "Really? Well, that just goes to show what you know... absolutely nothing." She turned back to her desk and started pulling things out of her box much more forcefully than necessary, throwing items down on the desk, pulling open drawers and slamming them shut again loudly, and the whole time, she could feel the other detective's presence right behind her. She spun around once more, taking the time to look the man up and down. He was bald, she noted, and she wondered if he shaved it for the express reason that he did not want to admit he was balding prematurely... she could see faint stubble on his head, but it was rather further back than one would expect to see a hairline. He had brown eyes and darker skin than Jane's own... Puerto Rican maybe? He had no hint of an accent... then again, Jane was of Italian descent and she was as American as they came, so accent was not necessarily a sign of nationality and ancestry. He was leaning against a desk at the moment, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at her in what seemed to be complete and utter amusement. Her eyes narrowed. "What is your name?"

"Detective Crowe." He hesitated for a long enough period to let Jane know that he did not class her in his league before adding, "_Darren_ Crowe."

"Well, _Darren_..." she said, deliberately not using his title (_two can play at that game_) and taking great pleasure in the way his smile dropped a couple of watts, "since you've taken the time to come over and tell me what you think of my work, even though you've had no personal experience working with me, please tell me why exactly you think I'm not suited for here."

Korsak had silently made his way to her side and been standing there silently for several minutes, but at that question, he cupped her elbow and, when she looked at him questioningly, discreetly shook his head. She shook off his hand, turning away and ignoring him. The best way to deal with a bully, she firmly believed, was to confront them head on. Bullies were cowards, after all, and most backed away when they realized you were a force to be reckoned with. Detective Crowe, however, was braver than most... or perhaps he was just stupider... because his grin simply widened again to full wattage. "You are," he said, pausing slightly to add greater emphasis to his next words, "a _woman._ You'll probably come over all faint at the sight of blood... jump to the wrong conclusions about cases... nope," he shook his head condescendingly, "I don't think women are suited for this position at all."

Jane stared at him for several long seconds, her brain ticking over quickly. Coming to a decision quickly, she strode forward purposefully, getting within six inches of Crowe's face. He leaned backwards, his shit-eating grin giving way to a look of trepidation as he looked her up and down. "What..." he started, but Jane didn't give him a chance to finish.

"Crowe... hmm, yes, that name does sound familiar..." she tapped her chin in mock-thought, then focused her gaze on his again. "Oh right, aren't you the one who failed his detective's exam four times?"

"I...!"

"Or... oh, my most sincere apologies, I think it was actually five!"

"I didn't..."

"And, yes, you're the one who's barely hanging on in the homicide department... 'by the skin of your teeth' is the expression I'm looking for... and you've only stayed this long because of your partner's competence..."

"You..."

"Honey," Jane leaned in close, the usual term of endearment spat out with so much anger that it could have been a swearword, "I'm better than you could ever dream." She stepped back, watching as Crowe slowly sat up again, his gaze petulant and humiliated. "As for blood," she added, "I've been dealing with blood ever since I was 11 years old, because I'm a woman." She leaned forward. "I think I'll be just fine," she whispered. "In fact," she added, straightening up once again, "I wouldn't get too comfortable where you're at, Crowe. That desk looks might comfy... once I prove myself here, I might decide I'd rather have that one."

Crowe stood up straight and stared at Jane hard, his gaze furious... but he didn't say a word, just turned and stormed back to his desk. Jane turned to look at Korsak, a pleased grin on her face.

"You know he's going to be even worse now, right?" he asked her, but with a smile. Jane's grin widened.

"Bring it on." Working more slowly and carefully now, she resumed her unpacking of her box, slowly making the desk feel like hers. Korsak sat back at his computer, keeping up a mostly one sided conversation about the latest cases he and Detective Murphy had been working on. Jane listened quietly, only asking the occasional question – she, Murphy and Korsak had ended up having a couple of lunches together before the official promotion, and they had eventually ended up discussing cases at each lunch, thereby giving Jane most of the information she needed. She still listened raptly though... while the cases they had worked on together had mostly been tied up by some miracle before she came on board, she still wanted to have knowledge of them in case anything further arose. When her phone rang on her hip fifteen minutes later, she jumped, so engrossed in Korsak's stories that she had almost forgotten she was at work.

"Rizzoli," she answered, watching in bemusement as Korsak answered his own phone only seconds later. She took down the address given to her, and looked up at Korsak as she ended the call.

"Well, your first call out. I was hoping we'd have a bit more time to get you settled but..."

"Throw me in the deep end," Jane said with a grin. "I'll figure out how to swim."

"Good," Korsak said, grabbing his coat and making sure he had everything on his belt by running a quick hand around his waist. Jane followed the same process at almost the same time – the habit was already so ingrained from her time in the drug unit that she barely needed to think about it anymore – and walked towards the door.

"Hey, Rizzoli!"

Jane took a deep breath before turning around. She was already thanking God and Heaven and whoever else she could think of that she had not been partnered with Crowe... she rather thought that it would not be long before she would end up being on trial for _his_ murder. "What?"

He smiled infuriatingly. "Have fun with the Queen of the Dead!"

Korsak let out a noise very similar to the noise of a dog growling and Crowe quickly looked away. Jane stared between the two of them in confusion, following Korsak out the door and into the hall. Finally, she couldn't bear her curiousity anymore. "Who is the Queen of the Dead?"

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Dr Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner."

Jane looked up as she heard the voice, taking the time to study Maura while she was occupied. She was 'odd', Murphy and Korsak had said... well, what was so different about that? Lots of people could be considered odd, depending on your interpretation of the word. Jane herself, would be considered 'odd' by many people, simply because she was a woman who deliberately chose to place herself in such a dangerous job. That didn't mean that she had Aspergers, like the two men had theorised about Maura. It just meant that she was... slightly different. So what then, she wondered vaguely, as she knelt down next to the body, her eyes taking in the injuries and evidence even while another part of her brain whirred away, was the reason that they thought _Maura_ had aspergers? Just because she wore a glove when she made the move to hand money to 'Tiffany' that day? That didn't necessarily indicate any kind of disorder... perhaps she just had an aversion to germs. But then, Jane considered, as she watched the last few photos get taken of the crime scene, weren't people on the Autism spectrum supposed to be insanely intelligent? And Maura was definitely, _definitely_ incredibly intelligent. Even after only speaking to her a few times, Jane was already half convinced that Maura knew everything. Or at least, she knew _something_ about everything... which was pretty much the same thing.

_"__What do you have this time?"_

_Jane glanced up at the note of fond amusement in Maura's voice. She had not heard that tone before, and she found she rather liked it._

_"__A dog," Korsak said, smiling sheepishly, sliding into the seat next to her. "I found him in a box in an empty lot near my home. He was crying, and thirsty... so I took him. Sorry I'm late."_

_"__What if he belonged to someone?" Jane asked blankly. Korsak gave her a wounded look._

_"__Why would they leave him like that then?"_

_Feeling both eyes trained upon hers, Jane shifted uncomfortably in the booth. "I don't know... they left the gate open, or..." she shrunk slightly under the incredulous looks being sent her way. "I don't know! Maybe someone will miss him, anyway."_

_"__What kind of dog is he?" Maura asked, apparently deciding to ignore Jane completely. Jane rolled her eyes and had a sip of her beer... it wasn't like she wanted to be heard anyway. It was fine. She pulled her disobedient lower lip back in. It was absolutely fine._

_"__Oh, I'm not sure..." Korsak paused, thinking. "I think he's part Pomeranian, part Chihuahua. Part something else too, probably."_

_"__Oh! Did you know that the Pomeranian species of dog is named after the Pomerania part of Central Europe? Which of course, today, is now part of northern Poland and Eastern Germany. It is classed as a toy dog, due to its small size, and is descended from the larger Spitz type dogs. In many counties, they are known as the Zwergspitz, or Dwarf Spitz. Whereas Chihuahuas are the smallest breed of dogs and they are named for the state of Chihuahua in Mexico."_

_"__Wow," Jane said with a poker face. "I did not know that. How fascinating."_

_Maura looked at her, a small frown on her face as though she couldn't figure out if Jane was being serious or not. Jane rolled her eyes._

_"__No, it really is interesting. How do you know this stuff?"_

_"__I read," Maura replied coldly._

_"__I read too, but I don't remember everything I read..."_

_Maura looked as though she would dearly love to reply but appeared to be biting her tongue. Jane frowned at her._

_"__Anyway," she said abruptly. "I wouldn't know that stuff anyway. I'm allergic to dogs." She wasn't, not really, but it was as good an excuse as any to fend off the question as to why she had no pets. In fact, she loved dogs... she just wasn't sure that she'd be a good owner to one._

_"__You are?" Maura asked curiously. Jane nodded, avoiding Korsak's eyes. He was looking at her as though she had just told him she only had a week left to live. She played with the sugar packets on the table. After only a few seconds, Maura started talking again. "Did you know that allergies to cats are actually much more common than allergies to dogs? Studies suggest..."_

_Jane rolled her eyes discreetly once more. Apparently this woman really _did _know everything._

"Detective?"

Jane glanced up and around behind, seeing that Maura had already donned her gloves and booties and was approaching the body, medical bag in hand. "Dr Isles," she nodded cordially, standing up.

"Your first body, congratulations," Maura said, inclining her head towards the young woman, but almost instantly, she pulled a slight face, as though wondering if it were poor taste to congratulate a person for someone else's misfortune. Jane immediately felt the need to reassure Maura, and bit back on the impulse.

"Thanks."

"You're coping well..." Maura murmured, crouching down next to the body. Jane watched Maura's feet absently as the booties stretched around her high heels, the cotton looking as thought it was drawn dangerously taut, "some people experience severe physical and psychological reactions to the visceral experience of our own mortality."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Meaning some people puke and stuff."

Maura looked up, a look of exasperated contempt on her face. "Yes," she sighed. "That is precisely what I meant. They... 'puke and stuff'."

Jane rolled her eyes. "So... what do you think we have here? Looks like she was raped to me. Blood between her legs."

Maura leaned over, examining the victim's thighs. "There is a reddish brown stain on her inner thighs."

"As in... blood?" Jane asked, her tone ridiculing. Maura spun her head around to glare and Jane frowned back. God, what was _her_ problem? It was blood, clear and simple.

"As in, I do not _know_ that it is blood until I get her back to my lab, so I prefer not to identify it until I am certain."

"Great," Jane nodded sarcastically, then shook her head. _This_ could get irritating. "Well anyway, it looks like the stab wounds killed her."

Maura looked up at her impatiently.

"Right, right... you're not going to verify that until you get her back to your lab. Well..." Jane stood up, propping her hands on her hips, "you know, just let me know when I can be of service. I mean, it's not like Korsak and I are anyone _important_... only the ones going to _arrest_ the asshole who did this. You know, whatever."

Maura looked as though she were biting her tongue hard. Finally, she replied, "As soon as I have all the facts, you will have them too... _detective_."

Jane narrowed her eyes, but chose not to say anything further, instead heading back to Korsak's side, who, she now noticed, had been watching their exchange. When she caught his eye, he raised an eyebrow at her. She sighed and nodded, glancing back over her shoulder.

She still wasn't sure _why_ she reacted to Maura so forcefully, but it was time she got her shit together.

For all their sakes.

**_END CHAPTER FOURTEEN_**

_Thoughts?_

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Their first case together... Maura sighed heavily. She supposed the initial part of it probably could have gone more smoothly – a _lot _more smoothly – but it seemed like she just couldn't help her strong reaction when she got around Jane Rizzoli. It was interesting, Maura considered, as she eyed the body in front of her, silently estimating the victim's age and weight. In fact, she'd go so far as to call her reaction _very _interesting. Any time in the past that she had run up against conflict in the workplace because of her own peculiarities, she had tended to bow out of arguments and back away from confrontations. She would not give up her own ideals, because she simply _couldn't_, but she did as much as she could to stay out of the way of people who grew frustrated with her methods. But with Jane... she had actually fought back. Not a great deal, it may be true... but for her, it _was_ a huge deal. She was – she looked up from her tray of instruments, a small frown on her face – actually proud of herself. She looked down at the body in front of her again and blinked. Pride? Was that really what she was feeling? It may have sounded odd to anyone listening to her thoughts, but pride was such a foreign feeling to her that it actually struck her as somewhat strange to be feeling that way.

It wasn't that Maura was ever in doubt about her abilities. If anything, it was the opposite; Maura knew that she was extremely good at her job, and that she was a very intelligent woman. These things were simply facts to her though, not things to be proud of... it was like stating that the sky was (generally, in the day time, and to the human eye) the colour blue, and grass was green. It was just a simplistic statement that did not necessarily make her a better person, she thought, it simply helped to describe her. She was methodical... she was precise. These were characteristics that lent to her doing her job well, not things to be prideful about. Pride was not an emotion she often felt, nor did she feel that others – even her family – often felt it about her. Delight, certainly, in the fact that she was so intelligent and they could rave about her grades and achievements... but not pride. Never pride, not for Maura just being Maura.

That's why it felt so strange now, and why the concept felt so foreign.

And it was all because of Jane.

Maura shook her head, trying to clear it of the troubling thoughts that crossed it with such rapidity that it made her feel dizzy. So much had changed for her in the month or so since she'd moved to Boston that it made sense that she should still feel somewhat discombobulated. After all, she'd only recently been able to get her house into some kind of order... well, a _Maura_ kind of order anyway. The main things – furniture, kitchen utensils, boxes unpacked – had all been completed within days of the movers arriving with it all, but there was still little touches that Maura had needed to add that she had simply lacked time (or energy) to do. Such as alphabetising her bookshelves, colour coordinating her wardrobe... all of these things had only been completed recently. Not, she thought, that there was _really_ a point to it... the house she was in was only meant to be temporary. But it still helped her to feel better, and she was sensible enough to realize the benefits far outweighed the hassle of doing it all over again at her next house. It helped her to feel at peace. It helped her to feel like she belonged.

_Belonged_. _Belonging._ There was that word again, that elusive, irritating sensation that seemed to dance out of Maura's grasp for so long, and that came into play so suddenly and unexpectedly. She felt like she belonged in Boston, and she had felt so since the beginning. Why though? She pondered, as she pointlessly straightened up her tools once more. Was it simply because she had found such unlikely allies in Korsak, Murphy and even Susie? Allies that might, perhaps, even turn into friends? Or was it... Jane.

Yes, she thought, picking up her marker to mark the lines of the Y she would be soon cutting into the victim's chest. Because that feeling of _home_ hadn't come till _after_ she met Jane. After she met Tiffany. But surely... surely that was just a coincidence? After all, it wasn't like she and Jane got on well at all. She wasn't a true friend, at least not yet, probably not ever. She wasn't Beatie.

Maura stopped, looking up. Beatie? What a peculiar time for that particular display of childish imagination to enter her thoughts. She hadn't even thought of Beatie ever since... well, ever since she was a child. Since she said goodbye in fact (though Maura wasn't entirely certain that that wasn't just a dream). How odd.

Shaking her head, Maura looked down at the body, to which she had only completed one top line of the Y on her chest. She sighed. It was time to get to work. There had been enough delays. Maura took her job very seriously, and always had a quiet moment of respect before autopsying her victims. After all, it was rather like violating them all over again... though she, unlike the killer... did it with the woman's best interests at heart. Finally ready, Maura picked up her scalpel and lowered it to the victim's skin, intent on peeling the skin back before she needed to use the bone saw to cut the rib cage and extract it from the body.

"Hey."

Maura jumped slightly and whirled around, gloved hand clutching the scalpel held to her chest. Jane's lips curved up in amusement. "Oh! You scared me!"

"I gathered." She approached slowly, looking at the body with a curious expression on her face, an expression unlike any Maura had ever seen before. She found herself studying the handsome face before her, trying to analyse the expression upon it. It was a mixture, she realized... compassion, sympathy, and a certain kind of fierceness that made her beauty all the more prominent. Jane was determined, Maura realized with a wild sort of happiness. Jane was determined to bring this killer to justice, to bring peace to this victim. She _cared_. "What?" Jane asked, and Maura started, her gaze dropping to her feet.

"I'm sorry?"

"You were staring."

"I..." she took a deep breath and let it out again slowly, hoping it would help to control her wildly beating heart. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking..." she shook her head slowly, her gaze once more meeting Jane's, her eyes (though she was unaware of it), shining with pure joy, "this job. It really means something to you, doesn't it? I mean, you really _want_ to find the person who did this."

"Well..." Jane shrugged uncomfortably, walking a few steps closer to Maura, "I mean, who wouldn't want a killer to be thrown in jail? But yeah, I mean... this is why I wanted to work in homicide. I want to bring justice to those who can no longer fight for it themselves."

Maura smiled at her for a few seconds, and realized with a start that something, somewhere in this very short conversation, had changed. Somehow, the dynamic had shifted in their relationship and at that moment, Maura thought that maybe the possibility of their eventual friendship was not such an implausible idea after all.

"...you?"

Maura stared at Jane wide eyed. "I... I'm sorry? What did you say?"

Jane leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest, her expression amused. "Are you always this focused on your conversation partner?"

Maura flushed. "No, in fact I..." she faltered, studying Jane intently. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Yep."

Maura bit her lip, but a smile still danced about her lips. "You're fond of teasing people?"

"Yeah," Jane replied, looking around the morgue with a vaguely curious air. "Don't, you know, take offence to it or anything."

""I'll try not to." Realizing that she was now twirling the scalpel in her fingers, she hastily placed it down and looked at Jane again. "So... what did you ask?"

"What?" Dark eyes focused on Maura's again, and she felt her breath leave her lungs. "Oh!" Jane lowered her head to scratch at her chin and Maura gratefully sucked in a lungful of air again. "I was just asking what about you? What made you want to do..." she gestured at the room in general with a wide, sweeping movement, "_this_?"

"Become a Medical Examiner, you mean?"

"Yeah. I mean," Jane chewed at a nail thoughtfully, "most kids that _I_ knew at least didn't grow up thinking 'hey, I want to cut up dead bodies!' So... I was just wondering."

Maura studied Jane intently. Was she being sincere in her wonderings, or was she teasing once again? Would she use this information to perhaps conspire with the unkind individual of one Detective Crowe, or...

"What are you thinking?" Jane asked, and Maura bit her lip when she noticed Jane was slowly approaching her, much as how one would approach a wild animal, and she found herself looking for the nearest escape route.

"I... I am thinking many things at many times, much as everyone else. Some thoughts are on the subconscious level, some are on the conscious but..."

"Oh God," Jane rolled her eyes. "Enough with the Googlemouth!" She hesitated, looking at Maura in contemplation. "Hey, I think that can be your nickname."

"Nickname? I... wasn't aware I needed one..."

"Everyone needs a nickname," Jane replied, waving her hand in the air. "Yours is now Googlemouth."

Noticing nothing other than amusement in Jane's expression, Maura hesitantly said, "So I can call you Detective Smartypants then?"

There was silence for about two heart stopping seconds before Jane threw her head back and let out a loud cackle of laughter. "I've been called a know-it-all before... but never a smartypants. Coming from a genius like you, I think I'll take it as a compliment."

"You should," Maura answered quickly before she could stop herself and flushed. Jane just smiled at her patiently. "I... I wanted to do this job because I wanted to help people. Like you said."

Jane's eyes flicked between both of Maura's own, as though trying to read them. "Why was that so hard to tell me?"

"It wasn't," Maura said and took a deep breath. "This is the hard part... I wanted to work with dead people, because... because alive people scare me." She blurted out the last part so quickly that she wasn't sure that Jane caught it, until she realized Jane was nodding along, her expression thoughtful.

"Huh. That actually kinda makes sense. Like... some kind of social phobia or something?"

"Yes..." Maura agreed hesitantly, then hastened to add: "I'm much better than I used to be though! I mean... I... well, I'm talking to you now."

"You are. And you've certainly won over Korsak and Murphy... I thought they were never going to shut up about how brilliant you are."

Maura flushed, that unaccustomed feeling of pride washing over her once more.

"I suppose that," Jane started, her fingers rubbing together thoughtfully. Maura couldn't help but focus on those long fingers, her thoughts straying momentarily until she reeled them back in forcefully, "with dead people... they can't hurt you, you know? With live people, there's always the thought that they can betray you, tell your secrets... with the dead, you have nothing to worry about. They can't hurt you... and you can help them."

Maura blinked. Those were almost the exact words she had spoken to her college professor many years before when she told him why she wanted to work with the dead. It could almost be considered spooky... if Maura was at all certain that she believed in that sort of thing. "That's why I hesitated in telling you," she blurted out quickly. "I... I was worried that you might tell Detective Korsak... or," she hesitated, then added in a shameful whisper, "Detective Crowe."

"Ha!" Jane laughed loudly. "Are you kidding me? That man hates me. And believe me," she glowered heavily, "the feeling is mutual."

Maura frowned. "Has he done anything to you?"

"Not yet," Jane sighed. "But I've only just started being a homicide detective. Give him time. I, uh..." she added quietly, "_did_ hear about his nickname for you. Queen of the Dead?" She waited until Maura nodded before continuing. "I hope you don't mind that I much prefer the nickname I gave you."

Maura smiled shyly. "No. I prefer it too."

The two women smiled at each other for a couple of seconds, then Jane got even closer, looking down at the body. "Korsak and a uniform are chasing up leads of potential witnesses, so I thought I'd come down here and see an autopsy first hand. I hope you don't mind?"

"No," Maura said instantly, but cringed, not wanting to say the thing she knew she needed to say. "It can get," she added hesitantly, "a little... gruesome. Are you sure you can handle it?"

Jane half smiled. "Won't be a problem." She gestured at the Y that Maura had drawn onto the victim's chest. "This is obviously the first step... so you don't cut crooked or something?"

"Crooked_ly_," Maura corrected, then looked down at the body herself. "Yes... it's an unneeded step, really, most medical examiners don't even bother with it... but I like the routine of it."

"Fair enough," Jane said, backing up enough that she could pull herself up onto one of the benches with a good view of the autopsy, watching as Maura picked up the scalpel and lowered it to the victim's chest.

"I cut the skin first..." Maura said, barely pressing down with the instrument as she began to dictate the steps she took for a routine autopsy. She wasn't sure how much information Jane wanted, so she was determined to try to give as much as she _would_ want. "And after I do that and peel it back, I get the bone saw and cut open the rib cage. The Y section allows for the easiest removal of the breast plate."

Seeing Jane nod, Maura bent her head to her work once more, finally pressing the scalpel into the skin, but before she could glide it smoothly down, Jane gasped out her name.

"What?" Maura asked, perplexed.

"Maura... I swear I just saw her move," Jane replied, and Maura frowned, turning to look at Jane fully. Was she teasing? _Surely_ she was. Maura had assessed the body at the crime scene, the first officers on the scene had assessed the woman... she was most certainly dead. So... maybe she was wrong, Maura considered sadly, maybe the conversation she and Jane had had was _not_ the catalyst to a potential friendship. Maybe Jane had been teasing her, and now the torment was set to continue... one look at Jane's face, however, immediately dispelled Maura of this notion. Jane was pale as a ghost, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide. "Maura, I swear to you..."

"But... she's dead," Maura replied blankly. "There was no pulse at the crime scene." _There was no pulse. There was none! _Maura bit her lip.

"I don't... maybe she just... _revived_ herself somehow or... maybe... I don't _know_, Maura, just please check! Please!"

Her heart beating furiously fast in her chest, Maura headed over to her drawers and pulled out her stethoscope. With another glance at Jane, who still looked as pale as ever, she headed back to the table, putting the earpieces in her ear as she walked and finally pressed the scope to the victim's chest.

When a steady beat met her ears, Maura looked up with wide eyes.

"Oh..."

**_END CHAPTER FIFTEEN_**

_I didn't have as many reviews last time. You guys still love me, right? LOL don't mind me, just being all needy over here. :-P In all seriousness though, thank you all so much for just reading my story. I love each and every one of you for that. :-)_

_I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but this is a kind of stepping stone... a catalyst of sorts, if you will, that will signify a gradual change in their relationship. They've still got a while to go though. :-)_

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_

_Extra note: *warning: personal* OMG I FORGOT TO SAY IN MY FIRST POSTING OF THIS THAT I FINALLY TOLD MY SISTER I'M GAY AND SHE DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE WHICH KINDA SHOCKED ME BUT SHE WAS JUST SO SUPPORTIVE AND LOVELY AND I HAVE THE BEST SISTER EVER THE END. :-P_


	16. Chapter 16

_Posted early cause I had someone bugging me. Won't mention any names but Susanne, you know who you are. :-P_

Chapter 16

Jane craned her neck, looking down at the news vans that waited outside. "Are you serious?" she asked furiously to no one in particular. "It's not like Maura actually carved the woman's chest open... if anything, she saved her life!"

Korsak joined her by the window, also looking down at the virtual jungle of cameras and reporters all jostling to get closest to the front doors. He shook his head sadly. "Yeah... but they don't give a shit about that. It's all about the publicity, you know. It's everyone's worst fear, being buried alive, and it almost happened to that woman."

"No, it didn't," Jane insisted petulantly. "Maura said herself that almost immediately after she started cutting, she would have realized something was wrong simply by the way the victim would have bled." She glared at Korsak. "Dead people don't bleed."

"They're not going to focus on that angle though," Korsak said quietly, gesturing to the jostling crowds outside. "They're going to focus on the angle that invokes the biggest reaction from the public. 'Woman wakes up on morgue table'" he quoted, raising his hands in the air as though to frame the words. "Sends quite a message, don't you think? Like... do our police and doctors _really_ know how to identify a dead body as being actually deceased?"

Jane grumbled, leaving the window finally and throwing herself down in her seat. "'Wakes up on morgue table'... right. Maybe if she had actually woken up, we'd have a fucking clue what her name was."

There was a small sniff from behind her and Jane immediately whipped around to see who had made the noise. Maura was standing there, eyebrows raised.

"Oh geeze... you gonna tell me you have a problem with swearing now, Miss Googlemouth?"

Korsak immediately looked at Jane, then just as quickly turned to Maura, an expression of concern on his face. Maura, however, had her lips turned up in a small smile. "No, Detective Smartypants. I actually think swearing can be a good way to let off steam in a non violent way. I just don't approve of it in the workplace."

"Maura, this is a police station. Swearing is practically _expected_ here." Jane looked her up and down and grinned. "I bet you've never even uttered a swearword in your life, have you Poindexter?"

Maura hesitated.

"What, Poindexter no good?"

Maura wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"Ah. Sorry."

Maura smiled. Korsak looked between the two women, a frown of confusion on his face. Jane ignored him.

"So? Have you?"

"I... try to avoid swearing wherever possible."

"Of course you do," Jane replied, rolling her eyes. "So what do you do to vent frustration?"

Maura smiled again, an expression on her face that somehow conveyed sweetness and devilish glee all at the same time. Jane felt a shiver run down her back. _She's straight, remember?_ She reminded herself sternly.

"You know what," Jane said hurriedly, before Maura could even open her mouth, "forget I asked. Uh... so how did you get through the throng of vultures out there?"

"A group of vultures is actually called a venue."

"Of course," Jane replied, rolling her eyes. "Who doesn't know _that_?"

"You'd be surprised."

"You know what, I don't think I would, really."

Maura shook her head, a small smile curving her lips. "Well, anyway. I ended up going through the back entrance into the morgue. Apparently _they_," she gestured to the window with an abrupt, impatient movement that made Jane grin – apparently Maura showed frustration in other ways, "don't know about that entrance. I'm not expecting," she added after a brief pause, "for my exit to be quite as serene."

"Yeah, they'll figure it out pretty quick." Catching the look on Maura's face, Jane hurriedly added, "...ly. Quick_ly_." When Maura smiled, Jane couldn't help her return grin.

"So," Korsak said, and both women turned to him curiously, "what exactly happened with our Zombie Doe?"

"_Zombie_ Doe?" Maura asked, raising an eyebrow. Korsak merely jerked a thumb in Jane's direction, who tried to look as innocent as possible. "Jane..." she began, in an exasperated tone.

"What? She... you know, rose from the dead."

"Except that she was not actually dead to begin with."

"She... wasn't?" Jane blinked.

"No. It appears to me as though she was in a state of deep shock, thus slowing her heart and lung function to the outward appearance of them not working at all. Really," Maura considered, "she's very lucky. What with the stab wounds and the rape damage, she almost certainly would have bled out if her body hadn't responded the way it did. The only thing that brought her out of the state of shock was the slight pain when my scalpel perforated her skin." Maura shook her head. "She's very lucky," she repeated.

Jane looked down at her keyboard. She didn't know if she'd call it _lucky_ to survive such a violent ordeal such as this one. She looked up to notice Maura frowning at her uncertainly.

"I... I'm sorry. Was that in poor taste, to say that she's lucky?"

"No," Jane said. "No, it's just..." she hesitated, finally shrugging. "It must have been terrible, that's all I'm saying. Sometimes death is kinder." She sighed heavily, and then sat up straight. "Anyway. Um... so will this continue to be our case?" She asked the question of Korsak but Maura answered.

"No. Not unless the victim passes away – but I don't think she will, her vitals are stable – or another case presents itself with the same M.O. Otherwise this one will be passed onto the violent crimes unit."

"Right," Jane nodded. "Well, damn for it not being my first case. I mean," she added quickly, noticing the frown on both Korsak's and Maura's faces, "not that I want her to die, I just... I..." she stopped and shook her head. "I can't get out of this one, can I?"

"Nope," Korsak laughed, while Maura simply smiled gently.

"I... uh... I feel sorry for you though, Maura. For something like this to happen so soon after you started here..."

Maura blinked, looking startled. "Oh! I... yes. Well," she licked her lips, looking slightly flustered, which confused Jane no end. Had no one ever shown her compassion before? "I'm sure it will be fine. I mean, things like this are generally forgotten pretty quickly, correct?" She looked at both of them almost pleadingly, and both Korsak and Jane were quick to reassure her.

"Yes, of course," Korsak said, smiling soothingly. "It will blow over very quickly."

"Yeah," Jane agreed, nodding her head vehemently. "Definitely."

Maura looked between the two of them, apparently searching for sincerity. Jane tried to appear as honest as possible, and, judging by the small amount of Korsak she could see out of the corner of her eye, he was trying to do the same, his eyes wide. Nodding in apparent satisfaction, Maura took a deep breath. "Okay then. Excellent. Well, I better get down to the morgue. I'll talk to you later Detective," she nodded at Korsak, "Jane," she nodded at Jane. Jane felt Korsak's eyes on her instantly, but tried to ignore it, nodding and smiling back instead, waiting until the sound of Maura's high heels had disappeared. The sound of a _ping_ placated her... Maura was on the elevator. Finally, she turned to Korsak. He had an eyebrow raised curiously.

"So..." Jane spoke hurriedly. "Uh... do you really think it will blow over quickly?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see. So... you and Maura seem to be getting along better." The would be casualness of the question had Jane narrowing her eyes.

"Yes. I suppose so."

"What happened?"

Jane looked down at her keyboard once again, spreading her fingers over the keys and lightly tapping at them. "I..." she finally started, when she felt she had been silent for as long as reasonably acceptable, "I don't know. We had a conversation yesterday."

Korsak sat back in his chair, folding his hands across his sizable belly. "I see. And?"

"And..." Jane shook her head, lifting her hands slightly and dropping them again, causing her thumb to hit the spacebar. She blinked as her previously blank computer screen lit up, but she ultimately ignored it and leaned back, running her hands through her hair, "_And_ I... I don't know, we talked. We talked about why we each wanted to work in this field, and... and I gave her a nickname, and she gave me one. It was nice," she finished lamely. "But then of course," she added, almost bitterly, "little Miss Zombie woke up and all hell broke loose."

Korsak nodded slowly, still staring at her unblinkingly, and Jane shifted uncomfortably. It _was_ nice, really, talking to Maura. It felt so... natural. So normal. She found herself wanting to talk to Maura about everything, find out everything there was to know about her. What was Maura's family like? Did she have siblings? What sports did she play as a child? What was her favourite subject in school? What does she do in her spare time? Does she collect anything besides fun facts? Did she have any pets? Did she... Jane felt herself deflate slightly... have a partner? A husband, perhaps? Kids?

_You have enough to be getting on with_, she told herself sternly, turning to her computer and resolutely ignoring the way Korsak's eyes still followed her, _you don't need to be falling for a colleague too. _She stabbed at the keys with rather more force than necessary. _Especially one who is almost certainly straight, and most definitely _not _Grace. Focus, Jane!_

Mini pep talk over, Jane turned to her work, familiarising herself with cold cases and casting Maura firmly from her thoughts.

_Time for work now._

_It's time for work._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_"_****_She's very ill."_**

**_"_****_I don't care! Please, you have to help her, please... please just help her!"_**

**_Beatie could hear the voices as though their owners were standing at the end of a long tunnel; their voices echoed and bounced, seeming to come in and out like a badly tuned radio, but yet she could feel Grace's hand tightly clutching her own, so she couldn't be _****that ****_far away, could she? Beatie didn't know, and her head ached too much for her to puzzle it out right now. Casting that thought aside, she focused all her energy on opening her eyes._**

**_"_****_Miss Henderson... you are a physician yourself. You must know that you have done everything there is _****to ****_do. There is simply noth..."_**

**_"_****_No!" The wild desperation and despair in Grace's voice pulled at Beatie's heart strings, and she fought even harder to fully come to the surface of the darkness she found herself submersed in. It was almost, she mused absently, like the time when she and Grace had first met, where she, Beatie, was fighting for air, and Grace came along to save her. _****I don't know if she will be able to save me this time****_, she thought sadly. _****I may be too far down...****_ "_****_No, please... the townspeople say that you are brilliant, that you can cure anything, that..."_**

**_"_****_They only say that," the doctor interrupted quietly, "because they need an excuse for why they did not ever get _****you. ****_You are a far better doctor than I am, Miss Henderson."_**

**_There was a brief silence, where Beatie could almost feel Grace clawing for words from thin air. "I... I... no, I'm not."_**

**_"_****_Yes. You are."_**

**_"_****_But..." Beatie felt Grace's hand tighten on her own, and tried to squeeze back reassuringly, "I'm not a doctor anymore! I'm 81 years old; no one wants a senile old geezer to be their doctor. I retired years ago."_**

**_"_****_Yes, but you still practice your knowledge for those who ask, don't you?"_**

**_There was another silence. "I... I do not do it to steal your patients. I... I only help family and friends..."_**

**_"_****_Please don't misunderstand me," the doctor said, and finally Beatie placed him. John Smith... that lovely young man Grace had helped many years ago. She had inspired him, he had always said, he wanted to be like her. He wanted to help people. So he became a doctor, like Grace. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just saying," there was a soft click and Beatie felt rather than heard Grace let out an almost silent sob as she finally placed the noise as his bag was closed, "that you are far from senile. You are... you continue to be... a brilliant doctor, even if you don't actively practise anymore. But..." Beatie finally found the strength to open her eyes, and watched as Dr Smith shook his head sadly, "there comes a time when even the most brilliant doctor can do nothing, and you must let life run its course."_**

**_"_****_Please," whispered Grace, her voice thick with tears. "Please... you don't know what she means to me."_**

**_Dr Smith's voice was soft when he replied, his eyes crinkling in empathy. "I think I do." Grace looked up at him. "You look at her," he continued quietly, "the same way I look at my wife. But..." he picked up his bag with one hand, laying a gentle hand on Grace's shoulder, "sometimes the best thing we can do for the ones we love, is to let them go." He turned towards the door. "I'll let myself out," he murmured. As soon as he left the room, the door shutting almost noiselessly behind him, Grace slumped forward, her usual ramrod straight posture abandoned as she succumbed to her grief. With great difficulty and an enormous effort, Beatie made a soft noise in the back of her throat. Almost instantly, Grace sat up again, her eyes searching Beatie's face desperately._**

**_"_****_Beatie? My dear Beatie, can you hear me?"_**

**_"_****_My saving Grace," Beatie croaked, feeling as though she was talking through a throat made of sandpaper, but it was worth it when she saw Grace's face light up in a beaming smile._**

**_"_****_Oh my darling... I knew he was wrong! He said there was nothing to do, but there is, there has to be. I'm sure there must be remedies I haven't tried yet..." She stood up agilely, practically flying over to the bookcases in her haste to reach them. "There must be something in one of these books... something I've missed... I know he's wrong, I _****know ****_it..."_**

**_"_****_Grace..." Beatie whispered again, and Grace looked up at her, eyes wide and watery. Almost instantly, though, Beatie was overtaken by a fit of coughing that seemed to press shards of glass into her lungs, and threaten the very existence of her ribs. She moaned softly._**

**_"_****_Oh... water... here, please...please drink it, darling..." Grace was by her bedside again as though summoned there by magic, and held the glass in trembling hands up to Beatie's lips. Beatie took a grateful sip and slowly, slowly felt herself able to breathe again without worrying that she would literally choke to death on her own saliva. Grace lowered the glass again, her hands still shaking to the point where the water threatened to slosh over the sides of the drink, even though it was only two thirds full. "How... how are you feeling?" She asked the question as though she was not sure she really wanted to know the answer._**

**_"_****_Truth?" Beatie asked, pleasantly surprised to find that the feeling of razor blades in her throat had abated for now._**

**_"_****_Truth."_**

**_Beatie cleared her throat weakly, her head feeling like it was full of cotton wool. No, not cotton wool... that gave the impression of a soft, dozy sort of feeling. It felt more like steel wool... harsh, abrasive, unforgiving. "I'm dying, Grace."_**

**_Her heart twisted as Grace's face immediately crumpled, a desperate sob twisting its way out of her throat. "No... no, please, my darling, don't say that..."_**

**_"_****_You... you asked for... for the truth." Beatie's strength was fading fast, her world growing dark around the corners, but she was determined to say what she had to._**

**_"_****_I... I did, but... oh Beatie... no, please, there must be _****something****_..."_**

**_"_****_You... always said... face your fears..."_**

**_Grace hung her head in shame. "I don't think... I don't think I can face this one. Not alone. Beatie..."_**

**_"_****_Listen," Beatie said quickly; the light from the room was fading fast and she didn't think it was the sun setting. "You can... you can face it... alone. You will. Because you... know why?"_**

**_Grace looked up, her face shining wetly with tears. "Why?"_**

**_"_****_Because... I'll see you after..."_**

**_Grace shook her head in confusion. "After what?"_**

**_"_****_After it's... your... turn..." Beatie was suddenly finding it hard to draw in breath, and found herself gasping like she'd just run a sprint. Grace's face contorted in worry._**

**_"_****_My turn?"_**

**_"_****_Yes..." Weakly, Beatie reached up and grabbed onto Grace's hand. "It's not... our first... time here... you know..."_**

**_"_****_Beatie?"_**

**_"_****_On Earth..." Beatie continued, her sense of urgency increasing even as the room grew steadily darker. "It's not... our first..." she stopped, deciding not to waste what little breath she had repeating herself. "We can... come back..."_**

**_"_****_Come back? Beatie, I don't..."_**

**_"_****_Promise me..."_**

**_Grace gripped onto Beatie's hand with both of her own. "Anything, my darling."_**

**_"_****_Promise me... you won't... let me not... _****see ****_you. Promise me... you'll help me... find you..."_**

**_Grace's face was contorted in a strange mixture of confusion and overwhelming devastation. "I... I promise, Beatie. I promise."_**

**_"_****_I... I love you Maura," Beatie whispered with her last breath, suddenly feeling too exhausted to draw another one. It was time._**

**_"I... '_****_More'? More what? Beatie?" There was silence for one heartstopping instance, then a desperate scream tore through the air. "ELIZABETH!"_**

**_As the lights finally faded to nothing, the last thing Beatie heard was Grace's desperate sobbing._**

**Fight for me, ****_Beatie pleaded. _****Please... fight for me...**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"So... what are we doing here?" Jane asked, forcing herself to smile politely as police officers mingled around her.

"Meeting people," Korsak replied, taking her by the elbow and forcibly pushing her deeper into the crowd.

"Uh, in case you hadn't noticed, I've actually been in the BPD for a while now... had a partner in the drug unit and everything. So..." Jane shrugged, "I guess I can go?"

Korsak smiled and shook his head. "Nope. Good try though. No, now you need to meet your _new_ colleagues. These are the people who work in homicide..." he pointed to a group of men and women – mostly men – standing near the bar, "those are the ones who work in violent crime..." he pointed to another group of people standing near the pool tables, "that's our technical crew..." he pointed to a group of people that were surprisingly void of glasses and pocket protectors – Jane supposed she shouldn't judge – "and _those _people..." he pointed to the rest of the bar in general, "are... well, they're one of the above. See, they're mingling."

"I do. I see that. Can I go now?"

Korsak simply shook his head – whether in amusement or frustration or a mixture of the two, Jane couldn't tell – and guided her over to the bar. "What'll you have?" asked the bartender.

"Two beers."

When the two beers were handed to them and they were paid for, both Korsak and Jane leant with their backs up against the bar, surveying the room. "Okay," began Korsak. "That fellow over there, bald head, tall, dark skinned? That's Martinez. Man next to him, short dark curly hair... that's Ronaldson. The one next to _him_ is..." Jane let his voice wash over her as she sipped at her beer slowly, enjoying it thoroughly... but when the crowd around the pool table parted, seemingly so they could start a game, she almost choked as a woman emerged. "Whoa... Jane, you okay?" Korsak asked, thumping her on the back.

Jane shook her head absently then changed her mind halfway through and nodded instead. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Uh... who's that?" She pointed at the woman in question... the woman who was tall, willowy, her hair a deep chestnut brown, her eyes dark and intelligent. Almost immediately, she looked over and caught Jane's eye, and Jane felt her breath leave her lungs without warning.

"That? That's Gretel. Gretel Millson."

"Gretel..." Jane whispered.

_Grace?_

**_END CHAPTER SIXTEEN_**

_Thoughts? :-)_

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	17. Chapter 17

_Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter... life is getting crazier and crazier the closer to Christmas we get! I was hoping to have it up last night but no such luck. Ah well. _

_A quick message to say thank you again for all the reviews. Apologies if you've asked me a question and I haven't gotten back to you! In answer to the most common question, I'm still thinking this will be about 30 chapters, though it may be as many as 40, we'll just have to see. Anyway... enjoy this offering! :-)_

Chapter Seventeen

Maura sighed deeply, looking down at the piece of paper she held in her hand and reading through it for what felt like the thousandth time. "My name is Dr Maura Isles," she murmured out loud, standing up to speak in front of the reflective doors of the cupboard that was only one small part of her newly decorated office. She tried to appear professional and detached as she spoke... chin up, eyes wide, lips narrow, she decided. That was the most professional look... after all, she didn't want to seem too emotional in front of all those cameras and reporters. Surely that would send entirely the wrong message, as though she was not able to perform her job well. But then... she hesitated, looking at herself in the mirror once more. _Would_ that be the right course of action? It was all so confusing... there were times when Maura longed for the relative ease that everyone else appeared to have when delving into the complicated world of emotions. Some people just seemed to know instinctively the things that Maura always felt like she was grasping for... things as simple as having the right facial expression, saying the right thing (but not too much!), or even just correctly interpreting another person's emotional state. Maura could read the subtle signs of facial language and body language of course... she had studied it for years... but still she struggled, especially when presented with situations such as this where she did not have the opportunity to read her audience's body language prior to speaking. No, in this situation she was supposed to somehow predetermine her audience's response, and find a counter argument/discussion for it.

Maura _really_ did not like giving statements in front of the press.

"My name is Dr Maura Isles," she started again, determinedly staring into her own eyes in the mirror, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I am the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and I have been in this position for just shy of 5 weeks now, though I have held similar positions previously. I am 32 years old, and I have held my medical licence for 8 years now, having graduated from medical school at age 24 – this is considered a relatively young age, but I was at the top of my class and was often classed as a prodigy of sorts. Before becoming a medical examiner, I spent some time overseas, and even spent some time with Doctors without Borders, which I found a very enriching experience.

"On the morning of..." Maura hesitated. The date that day was the 15th... or was it the 16th? So that meant that Monday would have been the 13th. Or 14th. She sighed, shaking her head and decided to leave that part for later, when her brain was perhaps not randomly firing off electrical stimuli caused by the high levels of stress she was currently under. "On the morning of... this date... at approximately..." Maura glanced at her paperwork, feeling her heart start beating a little bit faster, her breaths coming a little more frequently, "um. Approximately... 11. 11am, yes, I was called out to a scene at..." She glanced at her paperwork again. "Oh, it was the 13th. The scene was at... the Boston Common, and the victim was a young woman, aged approximately 25 years old. Due to the circumstances, I was unfortunately unable to take any X-rays or scans to confirm my visual approximation of age, so this is a mere estimate. The victim presented with..."

In the doorway, there was the noise of a throat clearing. Maura jumped, inhaling so sharply that she choked and started coughing.

"Whoa! Hey, you okay?" Jane immediately leapt forward, patting Maura gingerly on the back, dark eyes watching her closely.

"Yes," Maura gasped, coughing a couple more times into her elbow. "Yes, I just... you startled me into a pulmonary aspiration."

Jane frowned. "Uh... sounds serious."

"Oh, it's not. It's simply the entry of material from the oropharynx or gastrointestinal tract into the larynx and lower respiratory tract."

Jane stared at her blankly for a few seconds. "You mean... your spit went down the wrong pipe?"

"I... well..." Maura sighed. "Yes."

"Oh. Why didn't you just say that then, Dr Googlemouth?"

Feeling a grin steal across her face, Maura couldn't help but turn, following Jane's movements as she headed further into the office, examining Maura's new decor curiously.

"This is... interesting..." Jane said, peering at a tribal mask with a look of vague terror.

"They're tribal masks!" Maura replied excitedly. "Tribal people wore them for ritual dances as well as social and religious events, and the art of mask making was..."

"Passed down from father to son," Jane finished absently, stepping even closer to the mask as she peered at it intently. Maura deflated.

"I... yes. How did...?"

"Which always pissed me off, you know?"

Maura blinked. What had she missed? "I... I'm sorry, I..."

"I mean, what if one of those dudes had a daughter that was like 'I wanna make masks too'... what, she wasn't allowed, just because she was a chick?" Jane stared broodingly at the mask and Maura bit her lip.

"Well... gender roles were a lot more enforced back then and..."

"She could have been the most amazing mask maker they had ever known, and they were never going to realize that, all because she was a girl."

Maura nodded, her eyes widening in earnestness. "Yes, well... did you know that...?"

"It's just not fair," Jane interrupted once more, and Maura, whose mouth had been open in anticipation of finishing her sentence, abruptly snapped it shut again, a frown appearing on her face as she contemplated how best to respond.

"I guess..." she finally said quietly, looking up at Jane curiously, waiting for what was surely an inevitable interruption... but Jane's dark eyes simply focused on hers, the owner of said eyes waiting patiently, "that..." Maura hesitated again. She was so much more comfortable dealing in facts and figures... "that you didn't live back then. That... that you live now. Now, you can be a police officer and save people's lives, but back then..."

"I would've just been a lowly little housewife?" Jane asked, a small grin on her face.

"I... well... yes. Not," Maura added hurriedly, "to dispute the work of housewives, I just... I want to feel like I accomplish something with my life. I want my life to have meaning and purpose."

Jane nodded and turned her attention back to the tribal mask, a small frown appearing on her face once more. Maura watched her curiously, getting the distinct impression that something different was bothering Jane this time, but not trusting her instincts enough to ask outright if everything was okay.

"Do you really believe that?" Jane blurted suddenly, and Maura tilted her head.

"That... that my life has meaning and purpose...?"

"No," Jane shook her head and looked at Maura again, this time turning her whole body so she was looking at her. "No, that I... or that anybody... was never here before."

Maura felt lost. "Here before... what?"

"This life," Jane said impatiently, staring at her intently, but Maura still wasn't sure what was going on.

"Before this life?"

"Past lives, Maura! Do you believe in past lives? Do you believe that people can come back, can experience the world again and again, in different bodies, and times, and places... do you believe in it?"

Maura stared at her. Did she believe in it... did she...?

_"__We're going to meet your grandmother today, Maura, so you need to be on your best behaviour." Three year old Maura sat up straight in her seat as her mother bustled around her busily, fixing things that really did not need fixing, straightening things that were perfectly straight to begin with. Maura watched with wide, patient eyes, her mood barely affected by the period of waiting. She was slightly antsy, but she knew her mother would not appreciate her fidgeting, so she kept her hands folded primly in her lap, her small legs crossed at the ankle, one behind the other. "I do hope," Constance murmured, looking about the house with a critical eye, "that Mother Isles does not say anything strange today."_

_Maura could not resist. "What would she say?"_

_Constance glanced at her daughter. "She fancies herself to be a bit of a psychic, darling. It's all rubbish, of course."_

_Maura frowned. "Why is it rubbish?"_

_"__Oh Maura..." her mother sighed in frustration. "Must we really start up the twenty questions game again?"_

_Maura shut her mouth rapidly, her gaze dropping to her clasped hands._

_Constance sighed, fluffed one more cushion, then moved closer so that she was standing next to Maura. "It's rubbish because that sort of thing does not really exist. Mother Isles..." Constance pursed her lips, as though loathe to admit a familial bond with such a person, even a bond instigated through marriage, "believes that she can see into the past... into people's _past lives_. It's all nonsense of course... I mean to say, the belief that someone has been here before, it's just..."_

_"__Abolutely inconceivable, yes, yes Constance. I believe I've heard this particular song before," a new, unfamiliar voice piped up, and Maura instantly turned around, eager for her first glimpse of this as yet unsighted individual. Who, after all, could be so terrible as to throw her usually unflappable mother into a tailspin? What would she look like? Maura had contemplated this many times over the past few days. Would she have a large, beaky nose, with perhaps a rather gigantic wart on the end of it, like those witches in the fairy tale books that Constance so disapproved of? Would she be tall and skinny; all harsh protruding angles with no softness anywhere for a weary little head to rest upon? And, if such was the case, would she, Maura, be expected to – Maura shuddered – embrace her grandmother? She would do it, of course, if she had to, but... oh!_

_Luckily, there was nothing to worry about. Maura's grandmother was, if not the very epitome of an idealistic looking grandmother, surely the next best thing. She stood tall and straight, yes, but she carried a few extra pounds and Maura could certainly see enough spots to rest her head if the opportunity arose. Her grandmother did too, have the head full of snowy white hair that Maura had always imagined her perfect grandmother to have, as well as the sparkling kind blue eyes, and this and perhaps only this, was enough to give her the courage to squeak out a tiny greeting. Grandmother Isles peered at her closely. "So this is to be my granddaughter?" she boomed, and Maura shrunk back only minutely before forcing herself to sit up straight, looking her grandmother in the eyes._

_"__Yes," she replied clearly. "And am I to believe," she added, imitating the words that she had heard her mother utter a hundred times, "that you are to be my grandmother?"_

_Grandmother Isles' mouth dropped open, and Maura stared at her cautiously for barely five seconds before the woman let out a loud laugh. "Yes," she finally said once she had calmed down, her voice grave once more, "if you'll have me."_

_Maura looked her up and down slowly. "Yes, please."_

_Grandmother Isles walked over to Maura and patted her on the shoulder, then looked at Constance blandly. "Excellent. Well... I'm so sorry, Constance... what were you saying?"_

_Maura glanced at her mother curiously, the comforting weight of her grandmother's hand still resting on her shoulder. Grandmother Isles was really not so terrible after all; certainly she wasn't nearly as bad as Maura's imagination had made her out to be. She was curious how her mother would respond._

_"__I... I don't..." Constance began, her head held high, her nose wrinkled as though she could detect a bad smell._

_Maura sniffed inquiringly. There was no bad smell._

_"__Oh, certainly you do! You were about to say that it's absolutely inconceivable, and that you, in your own private opinion believe I am going... oh dear, what _is_the expression you use...?"_

_"__Dotty," Constance supplied unwillingly, her lips pursed so tightly that Maura wondered how she got the word out at all._

_"__Dotty, yes, of course. You see, Maura..." Grandmother Isles bent down next to Maura's chair and looked at her intently, "your mother is new to this earth, and doesn't understand the possibilities it represents. But," she added slowly, narrowing her eyes and coming even closer to Maura, so that Maura felt obliged to pull her head backwards, "you are _not_new, are you? You've been here before, haven't you?"_

_Maura stared at her. Been here before? What did she mean? Maura was only three, and she'd lived in this house her whole life..._

_But... it did make sense, didn't it? Sometimes, things felt so familiar... it was an odd sensation, and one that Maura certainly could not yet describe, not with the language capabilities of a three year old (even if she had the vocabulary of a child much older), and so she looked at her grandmother with dawning awareness, a smile lighting up her face... but then, Constance intervened._

_"__Honestly! Grandmother Isles," she said, her expression one of forced politeness, "please come with me. Maura, stay here please."_

_Maura opened her mouth to protest, but, after catching a glimpse of her mother's expression, decided silence would be safer. Instead, she simply climbed down off the chair and headed to her art corner, taking a piece of paper and some pencils and laying them out carefully in front of her. What should she draw though, she wondered? Her family? A rainbow? A butterfly, perhaps? No... that didn't seem quite enough, not today. She was going to draw – she picked up a yellow pencil resolutely – a woman. A short woman... not skinny, but not fat, and with blonde hair. And she was going to draw another lady... tall, skinny but in a nice way, and with brown hair. And she was going to draw them holding hands. That's what she was going to do._

_Her little brow furrowed in concentration, Maura set to her task with single minded determination. She thought and coloured, coloured and thought, and finally, just as she was almost complete, her mother came back in the room._

_"__What are you doing, Maura?" Constance asked wearily, a hand held to her head as though it ached terribly. Maura drew her last few strokes before placing the pencil done and standing up._

_"__This is my drawing."_

_Constance frowned down at the picture. "Who is it?"_

_Maura frowned at it too. "I'm not sure. But I think that's me..." she pointed to the blonde lady uncertainly. "Maybe not though. Maybe I'm the other one."_

_"__You don't know?"_

_"__No. This is the me I was before. And someone else too. Someone I loved," Maura explained eagerly. "Maybe my sister? Or my friend?" she contemplated, but then all at once, she wondered where her grandmother was. "Where's Grandmo...?"_

_"__This..." Constance said, interrupting, and Maura's eyes immediately returned to hers, her gaze alarmed. She didn't think she had ever heard Constance sound so quietly furious in all her short years, "is all because that _woman_... that _woman _said you had been here before?"_

_Maura frowned, unsure why her mother was so upset. "Yes. I think... I think my name was..." she screwed her face up, trying to remember, "Hope. Or Grace, or..." she trailed off as Constance held up the picture that Maura had spent half an hour painstakingly drawing, deliberately tearing it straight down the middle and dropping the two pieces on the floor._

_"__You will not see that woman ever again. I will not have talk of such things in my household. Do you understand?"_

_"__Mommy!" Maura cried, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at the ruined drawing._

_"__Maura! Do you understand?"_

_"__I..." Maura took a deep breath, forcibly swallowing back the sobs that wanted to come out, "yes Mother."_

_Her mother sniffed and headed upstairs. Maura waited until she was gone to collect the two pieces of torn paper, and took them to her room to tape them back together, putting it safely in her underwear drawer._

_Two days later, the drawing was gone._

Realizing she had been silent for entirely too long, Maura cleared her throat awkwardly, looking at the ground. "I... I'm not sure."

Jane looked at her, seemingly waiting for something. "Well?" she finally asked. "No case studies or group consensus or...? Really, there's nothing? Just 'I'm not sure'?"

Maura raised one shoulder. "It's... I believe that it's more of a personal belief. And... and I don't know."

"Huh."

There was silence for a few seconds, and before she could think of anything else to say, Maura found herself blurting out, "My grandmother thought I'd been here before though. She... she believed in the phenomenon of past lives and the like."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes." Maura bit her lip nervously. "I'd forgotten... until you mentioned it..." Sensing that Jane was going to ask another question and desperately wanting to change the subject, Maura quickly asked, "I'm sorry, was there a reason you came down here to see me?"

"Uh... yeah, I guess so." Jane headed away from the tribal mask finally, instead flopping down in one of the seats that Maura had yet to replace. She let out a noise of pleasure, and Maura crinkled her nose. It may have been comfortable, but it was also ugly. "I, uh... I heard that you've been advised to make a statement to the press, so they stop bugging you about Zombie Doe." Maura raised her eyebrows. "Sorry," Jane said, rolling her eyes. "_Jane_ Doe then."

"Yes, I've been advised that it might be prudent... that way I can present the facts, inform them of the likelihood of this ever happening again..."

"Were you practicing when I walked in?"

Maura blinked. "Yes, I was."

Jane winced. Maura stared, affronted.

"Is there a problem? Did I... was I," she asked, suddenly nervous, "was I not speaking clearly enough? Or perhaps I wasn't enunciating correctly... I always had that problem as a child though I did think I had overcome it..."

"No no no..." Jane murmured, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. She looked at Maura curiously. "Look, I just... I think you need to get to the _heart_ of the issue here."

"The... heart? You mean, Jane Doe? I need to... to..." Maura floundered, trying to interpret Jane's expression, "appeal for the public's assistance in identifying her?"

"No. Well, yes, but... Maura, the reason this is such a media shitstorm is because it highlights people's worst fears: being buried alive."

"She wasn't buried though. I would have discovered her state of life long before it came to that," Maura said blankly.

"Yeah, but... it _nearly_ happened." She waved off Maura's attempted protests. "No, as far as _they're_ concerned," she waved randomly, as though to signify a group of people, "it _nearly_ happened. So you need to address it from that way. How you felt, realizing you were cutting into a live person. How you responded. How this has _never happened to you before_, and is unlikely to _ever happen again._ Do you understand?"

Maura stared, the familiar words echoing in her memory, even if this time the words were spoken much more kindly and in a different voice, and this time, Maura decided not to pretend to understand. "No. Will you help me?"

Jane smiled. "Of course."

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Maura! Dr Isles, I should say..." Korsak said, with a fond smile as Maura came rushing in, her cheeks alight with happiness. "You did a phenomenal job out there."

"Thank you, Detective Korsak," Maura beamed. "It was really Jane; she helped me with my statement so much. I... where is she?"

"In the break room," Korsak replied with another smile. When Maura made to move towards the room however, his smile dropped a few watts. "Oh... uh, I think she's busy..."

"It's okay, she told me she wanted to hear how it went," Maura replied brightly, and shrugging off his concerned look, she headed for the room once more, knocking briefly. "Jane, I did it, and it..." She stopped talking abruptly as Jane and another woman hurriedly pushed apart from each other, each with an embarrassed look on their face.

"Uh, hi Maura. This is Gretel." Jane bit her lip. "How'd your thing go with the press?"

Maura felt winded. "It... it went well. I... I'm sorry. I'll just... leave you alone."

"Good job!" Gretel called as the door was shutting, and Maura let out a soft growl, only one word managing to make it through the cloud of red that was currently obscuring her brain's higher functions.

_Mine..._

**_END CHAPTER SEVENTEEN_**

_Please don't kill me. But do tell me your thoughts. You can even tell me your thoughts ABOUT killing me... just don't actually do it. That'd be grand. :-P I feel like the start of this chapter didn't flow the easiest, but it got better by the end... so I'd love to know what you think._

_Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	18. Chapter 18

_My apologies with the delay with this chapter... I'm just so busy with the lead up to Christmas! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter._

Chapter Eighteen

"Gretel... Gretel, just... I just... Gretel!"

Gretel pulled back, a pout visible on her lips even in the dim light and Jane felt her annoyance levels ratchet up more than a little. "What is it, Janie bear? Are you okay?"

Jane felt a growl building in her chest but quickly suppressed it, swinging her legs out of bed. "I'm fine, really... I just need a drink."

"Do you want me to get it for you, pooky?" Gretel asked, and Jane squeezed her eyes shut, her lips pursed tightly as she desperately held back harsh words that were unwarranted.

After all, it wasn't _Gretel's_ mistake that Jane had obviously made a mistake.

"No," she finally bit out. "You just rest... I just need to walk around a bit, get some fresh air..."

"Are you going outside? At this time of night?" Gretel asked, sitting up immediately. "Oh my sweetie-bum, that's not safe!"

Jane winced. _Sweetie-bum? _Really? "I don't know if I wanna go out. But I'll take my gun if I do, okay?"

"Okay..." Gretel replied with another pout, this one apparently added for good measure. "But hurry back. I'll miss you."

"Right. I'll, uh... I'll see you soon, ok?" Jane muttered and stood up before Gretel even had a chance to reply, almost running out of the room. It was only after she left the oppressive environment of her bedroom that she realized how badly she needed air... and how little there had seemed to be in there – how little there seemed to be in her whole apartment. Hurriedly pulling on her running shoes and grabbing her bag and gun, Jane threw open the door to her apartment and raced down the stairs, sucking in deep, grateful breaths of the cool air outside, her lungs accepting the oxygen with gratitude. With a cursory check around – it was nearly 2am, the streets were practically deserted in this part of town – Jane put her gun in her bag and slung the bag over her shoulder, taking off at a slow jog around the familiar neighbourhood.

There wasn't _really_ a lack of air in her apartment – in all honesty, Jane knew that. If there had been, she would have been forced to pull Gretel out too or at the very least, she would have noticed them _both_ having breathing difficulties, not just her. Since it _was_ only her seeming to have problems, Jane was forced to one simple conclusion: it was she who had the problem, not the apartment. It was she who needed to get out, it was she who needed to sort out her issues, because there were no issues anywhere else. Gretel was happy – at least, as far as Jane could tell – Jane was not. And how had this turned into an issue about them, and not her home? Because, she was forced to conclude once more, it was really about them the whole time. If Gretel had not been with her that night, would she have been forced into a late night/early morning jog such as this one? It didn't seem likely. No, all evidence proved to one possibility: Jane had made a mistake.

Evidence... conclusion... Jane stopped, panting, and rolled her eyes. She had been spending way too much time with Maura apparently. She was beginning to pick up on her way of speaking. Not, she conceded, that Maura really seemed all that fussed on spending time with her lately... not since Jane's relationship with Gretel had become apparent.

Jane groaned and began jogging again. Gretel. It had all seemed so simple when Jane first met her. It was not even a challenge... her name was even almost the same as Grace's – or at least, both started with a 'gr'. Then there was the fact that she _looked_ so much like Grace. Surely, Jane mused, surely that had to mean _something_?! She resembled her _so much_... sadly, Jane was now realizing that it _did_ mean something. It simply meant that there were a limited amount of facial feature types in the world, and that with 7 billion people currently occupying the planet, it was simply inevitable that two people who were completely unrelated would end up looking the same. Unless she was a long lost relative of Grace's? Obviously not born from Grace herself, but didn't she have a sister...? Jane screwed up her face. Was it an adopted sister? Or a... maybe a half sister or a step sister. What was it? Jane found herself slowing once more, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. Why was it so difficult, _why?_ Why couldn't it be easy, so she could just spend her life with the current-day Grace, not just be searching for her...

**It's not going to be easy...**

Jane stopped breathing, her head slowly spinning around as she scanned the still and silent world around her. Who had spoken those words? Or was it... she closed her eyes tightly. _It's not going to be easy_... she felt like she had heard those words before, they had been spoken to her before, a long time ago... maybe even a lifetime ago. But, she thought again, as though her mind was on a one-way track, Gretel looked _so much_ like Grace...

Yes, and that made _total _sense because Jane looked exactly like Beatie. _Except that she didn't._

Jane groaned and shook her head to clear it, taking off running again with her handbag clutched in front of her now, just in case. She didn't have that feeling in her gut that warned her of anything dangerous approaching, but still, it was better safe than sorry. Maura didn't even believe in gut feelings anyway.

Maura... Jane frowned as her pace increased. Jane had not pegged Maura for a homophobe, but she had been acting so oddly around Jane for the past two and a half months, ever since she had stumbled across Jane and Gretel kissing in the break room. It was almost like she couldn't stand to look at Jane, like the very idea of it hurt her somehow. She had, as far as Jane was aware anyway, not even spoken a single syllable to Gretel. Not that she needed to, really, at least certainly not for professional reasons. Gretel was part of the technical crew at BPD: she worked with the detectives, not the M.E.'s. But she had also barely spoken a word to Jane, and that in itself was confusing. They had been getting on so well...

The problem was, Jane thought, was that Maura was such a... well, such a _bizarre_ person. It was so difficult to read her at the best of times, and when Maura was actively trying to hide something, it made it even harder. Jane, however, was nothing if not stubborn, and while she had been patient for this long, she was not going to be patient any longer. It was not as though she had done anything wrong by kissing Gretel... by _dating_ Gretel.

Especially since – Jane sighed – it seemed she would be breaking up with her sooner rather than later. Not that there was anything wrong with Gretel – she was lovely, especially if you took away her habit of using irritating pet names – but she wasn't who Jane was looking for. Jane hadn't even mentioned Grace and Beatie to her yet. She kept telling herself that she would say something soon... maybe tomorrow... maybe next week... but it never happened. And now she was realizing why.

Gretel wasn't who Jane needed.

She needed to find Grace.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Jane?"

Jane looked up from her intent study of her nails. "Hi."

"Hi..." Maura put her folder down cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

Jane dropped her hand down so it could grip onto the bench she was currently sitting on. "I don't know. Visiting."

"Visiting... alright..." Maura walked further into the morgue, pulling her gloves on slowly as she walked. Abruptly she turned and looked at Jane quizzically. "Why?"

Jane scratched her ear. "'Why' what?"

"Why are you visiting?"

"Because."

Maura sighed in frustration and Jane winced almost instantly.

"Sorry. I, uh..." she gulped, then softly admitted, "I guess I just didn't want to be alone."

"Isn't Detective Korsak upstairs?"

"Yeah, but..." Jane stopped and looked at Maura cautiously. Maura was not looking back at her though; she was busy straightening some medical instruments which Jane was sure had been perfectly straight to begin with. "I broke up with Gretel," she blurted out, and watched as Maura slowly turned, one perfectly shaped eyebrow lifting slowly.

"So... I won't be walking in on you kissing her again anytime soon?"

The coldness in Maura's voice sent Jane's teeth on edge, and she felt anger boiling in her veins. "What is your problem?"

"Me?" Maura asked, with that infuriating eyebrow still lifted. "I don't have a problem that I am aware of..."

"Are you sure about that?" Jane asked, her temper getting the best of her. "Because I _thought_ you were a decent person, but obviously I was mistaken! No, instead you are a homophobe! Wonderful! You know, you're probably one of those straight people who believes that being gay is a choice. Like I would fucking _choose_ this... oh, what is it you people call it? A _lifestyle?_ Well, newsflash honey, I didn't choose to be gay. I just am. And if you still believe that it's a choice, I feel it my duty to ask you... when _precisely_ did you choose to be straight? Hmm?"

Maura was staring at her, a frown on her face. "I... Jane, I think..."

"Detective Rizzoli," Jane interrupted, aware she was being petty but unable to help herself. Maura's lips tightened.

"Detective Rizzoli then. I think that you are mistaken about me."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Of course I am. You're not a homophobe, you just 'don't agree with our lifestyle'. That's it, isn't it? Like your opinion matters all that fucking much?"

"No, Jane... Detective... I just..." Maura blinked at her, looking perplexed. Jane raised an eyebrow.

"Ye-e-es?"

"I never made the choice to be straight," Maura blurted out quickly, as though she was worried the words would be taken away if she didn't say them fast enough.

Jane propped a hand on her hip. "See, I told you it's not a ch..."

"I never made the choice to be homosexual either," Maura interrupted, and Jane stopped mid word, staring at Maura in confusion.

"I... it... wait, I..."

"I just am," Maura whispered.

Jane felt her mouth hanging open and quickly shut it, her teeth clicking together audibly. "Y-you..." she finally stuttered, when the silence of the room was broken by her phone ringing. 'Sorry,' she mouthed, before grabbing the phone off her belt and flipping it open. "Rizzoli."

Mere seconds later, another phone rang, and Jane lifted her gaze just in time to see Maura say, "Dr Isles," crisply into her own phone. Maura met her gaze and Jane let her lips curve up in a tentative smile. Maura returned the small smile, Jane was relieved to see.

Noting the details down of the crime, Jane hung up and smiled at Maura once more. "So... we going to the same place?"

Maura glanced down at the piece of paper she had written the address on. "18 Linden Street?"

"Yep." Jane frowned. "Nice neighbourhood out there."

"Crimes happen in good neighbourhoods too, Jane. In fact, the statistics verify that killings in good areas account for approximately 25% of all murders."

"Yeah. Wait, really?" Maura nodded and Jane raised her eyebrows. "Huh. Well, anyway... uh, wanna come with me? Since we're, you know, going to the same place and all..." She smiled hopefully.

"No, thank you," Maura replied. Jane frowned. "It's just that... you may need to stay on longer than me, or perhaps my team will need guidance in gathering evidence... it makes much more sense for us to take separate vehicles."

Jane's frown deepened. Something in Maura's tone let her know that she was not yet forgiven, and, while she wasn't sure how to fix it, she resolved to give it a damn good try.

Even if she still wasn't _entirely_ sure what had made Maura angry in the first place... Jane grunted. Oh well, she thought. Something to figure out another day.

"Okay. Well... I'll see you there. Okay?" Jane said but Maura had already turned her back, gathering her supplies.

"Yes. I will see you there."

Jane shot one last confused look at Maura's back, and then headed out the door. Maura's issues would have to wait. There was a murderer to catch.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Hey. What do we have?"

Korsak looked up at her. "Hi," he said, and then glanced around behind Jane, as though expecting to see someone else.

"Uh, I'm right here."

"Oh, sorry," Korsak replied. "I was just expecting... where's Maura?"

"Oh, she's, uh... taking her own car."

Korsak frowned. "But... you were down there talking to her. Wouldn't it have made sense to come together?"

Jane shrugged, finally approaching the deceased man on the couch. "Yeah, that's what I thought too, but... I dunno, I guess she's still pissed at me."

Korsak frowned, watching as Jane peered at the victim closely. "Pissed at you for what?"

Jane shrugged again. "Your guess is as good as mine. So... what is this?" Jane studied the victim intently. He was positioned in a sitting position on the couch, his hands and ankles taped, and a strip of tape across his mouth, with his head lolling back and his throat slit garishly. "This guy looks posed. Is this... is that duct tape?"

Almost instantly, Korsak's whole persona changed, and Jane became suddenly aware of the air of trepidation that surrounded him and many others of the cops already present at the scene. In fact, the feeling descended upon her so rapidly and with such suffocating despair and desolation that she wondered how she could have initially missed it. She straightened up.

"What? What is it?"

Korsak's gaze drifted to the side. "I was hoping to tell you and Maura together..."

"Tell Maura what?" a familiar voice came from behind Jane, and she instantly whirled around, reaching an arm out to pull the other woman closer.

"I don't know, but he's going to tell us now." Jane looked at Korsak expectantly. "Well?"

Korsak's lips were thin. "I need you to tell me what you can deduce from this scene, rookie."

"What I can..." Jane frowned. "But..."

"Now."

Jane glanced at Maura, who simply raised an eyebrow and approached the victim without saying a word. Jane sighed. "Okay... well..." she went around, looking at photos on the walls. "Victim is married." She looked at a display case. "No kids, by the look of it."

"What makes you think that?"

"No photos," Jane said, before pointing at the display case. "Plus, no way they'd have something like that around – without doors! – with a toddler roaming the joint."

"Good reasoning skills, Detective," Korsak nodded, and Jane glanced at him briefly. She continued her walk around the room, and it was as she was crouching down to look at what seemed to be slight spatters of arterial blood spray, she glanced over and spotted a tea cup under the coffee table.

"A tea cup?" she asked, pointing to it. Maura bent down to look at it too, while Korsak simply lifted his chin and breathed out through his nose slowly, looking unsurprised. "So..." Jane asked suddenly, "where's the wife?"

Korsak looked down at the ground, and Jane could see Maura out of the corner of her eye, looking between the two of them curiously. "We don't know," he finally said. "This is..." he shrugged helplessly, "this is what he does."

"Who is this 'he' you refer to, and what does he do?" Maura asked, speaking for only the second time since entering the room. Jane jumped, glancing at her, then staring hard at Korsak.

"We call him the surgeon," Korsak finally revealed, with the air of someone giving very bad news. "He rapes the wife, making the husband watch... he then kills the husband, and drags the woman off for a couple of days. He uses," Korsak nodded towards the coffee table, beneath which the innocent teacup rested, "the teacup as a warning device for when he's... busy... with the woman. If the man moves..."

"... the teacup falls off his leg," Jane finished, feeling suddenly and unaccountably furious. "You told me," she hissed, "that you had informed me about all the cases you were working on. _This_," she gestured towards the victim, "was not in that information!"

Korsak did not respond with anger back. In fact, he looked tired... and unaccountably old. "We thought he'd stopped."

"So you just _decided_ to not inform me..."

"It wasn't our case," Korsak interrupted. "We were never given this one. This one belonged to Crowe."

Jane let out a loud scoffing noise. "_Crowe_?"

Korsak looked slightly amused. "Yeah. Well, now it's ours, cause they fucked it up."

Jane felt a sudden stab of fear. "How'd they fuck it up?"

"Got a woman killed." The answer was abrupt and simple, but those four words sent shivers down Jane's spine. _Got someone killed_... Jane shuddered. She hated to think what kind of hell a person would go through, knowing that their mistake was one that had cost someone their life. _I will never do that_, she resolved silently. _I will _not _fuck up... I can't..._

She looked at Korsak, her face set, firm. "Let's get this fucker."

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_It was bright here. So bright, but as Beatie looked around, the brightness began to form shapes... began to form pictures. It was her home! But it was her home as she had never seen it... every colour so crisp, so vibrant, so... bright. It felt like it should hurt, like her eyes should be paining her, but suddenly Beatie wasn't entirely sure she actually did have eyes. Was it possible for her to just... be? Without a body? But then, how could she see? How could she feel, walk (because that was what she was doing, surely... she was definitely approaching the front door to her house), _****think****_without a body? Without a brain?_**

**_For Beatie was thinking. She was thinking hard, about what she last remembered, about what she last had seen. It was Grace. It was always Grace. Grace was crying, was screaming her name, was calling for her... why had Beatie not answered?_**

**_As though in a dream, Beatie passed through the doorway to her overly bright house, and found the colours and pictures inside just as exquisitely beautiful as the outside. It made her heart hurt. Did she _****have ****_a heart, she suddenly wondered, but almost as quickly realized that she certainly had ears... for she could hear someone crying. Crying... crying as though her heart was breaking... crying as though her very soul was dying, was aching... Beatie wanted to cry herself, listening to that mournful sound, but she found she could not. Instead, she followed the noise._**

**_"_****_Grace!" she tried to call, but the noise escaped her only as a breath of air. "Grace?" she tried once more._**

**_"_****She cannot see you,"****_a voice declared, and Beatie turned, the world turning with her until it felt like she was spinning in endless circles, Beatie searching desperately for a landing spot. Finally, she landed, in the middle of what seemed to be a never-ending field, full of flowers. Beatie leant down and smelt the dizzying perfume, drinking it in until she felt sure she had enough for Grace to enjoy too. It was always about Grace._**

**_"_****_Grace..." she whispered._**

**"****It is not her time yet."**

**_Beatie blinked. The voice appeared to come from every flower surrounding her, every grass blade, and even from the stars that were visible to her even in the sunlit sky. "Please... I can't... I don't think I can live without her."_**

**_"_****You can. But you won't have to for long. Time... is different here."**

**_Beatie looked around. "This is Heaven?"_**

**"****This is ****_one _****Heaven."**

**_"_****_Who are you?"_**

**_The flowers waved as though in a high wind, the sounds of the stalks slapping together almost like the sound of breathy laughter._**** "****It is not for you to know, child. Just know you will be together again. Sleep, child. Sleep. Sleep... and forget. Sleep... Sleep..."**

**_Beatie closed her eyes, her last thought of Grace, her last image a flickering fire... and a dying wish._**

**_"_****_Let her remember me... always..."_**

**_END CHAPTER EIGHTEEN_**

_As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. If you don't feel like leaving any, thank you anyway for just reading. :-)  
Also may I just say that woo, I got my first couple of 'bad' reviews last chapter? Well, there was one several chapters back, but that was attacking me as a person, not the story. Anyway. 16 whole chapters without a negative review, that's gotta be some kind of record haha. Ah well.  
Oh, also please let me know if fanfic plays silly buggers and takes away spaces between italicised words and non italicized ones... I try to catch them all and fix them, but I often miss a few. Thanks!  
Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	19. Chapter 19

_I am so soo sorry about the delay. I've been really busy with Christmas stuff, but that's not the real reason... I guess I've just been battling old demons the last couple of weeks and I was finding it really hard to do anything, let alone write. But I'm pretty much back to my normal self now, and will hopefully stay that way for a good long while, so updates should be pretty regular once more. :-) Thank you for being patient with me. I hope you continue to enjoy my little story._

Chapter Nineteen

**Time has no meaning here, in this place. Not like it does on Earth. Here, time is everything, and it is nothing. On Earth, a million years could pass in the time it takes a soul to look around its new environment. But, also, a soul could talk to a thousand other souls for an eternity in the time it takes a mortal human to eat a mouthful of food. It is as I said: time is everything. Time is nothing.**

**I see a million or more souls every day. A half million going, a half million coming... still more simply staying put. I see them all, and I know them... but I do not allow myself to 'keep' them, for to remember them all would be too much. Too much heartache, too much joy, too much sadness, too much happiness. So why do I remember Grace and Beatie?**

**I can think of no other reason than this: they are special.**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Maura glanced at Jane curiously as she paced around the body, her entire body seeming to practically vibrate with barely contained frustration and it was all because of this killer, this 'surgeon'. Maura inspected the victim's neck once more, and had to concede that she understood the nickname. The cut was so perfect, so precise. There were no ragged edges to the wound, which suggested an extremely sharp instrument... the severing of the carotid artery seemed to be expertly executed, from what Maura could see. It worried her, if truth be known, as it suggested a very intelligent perpetrator. One that, perhaps, would not be easy to catch. Glancing up at Jane, she planned to relay this gleaned insight, but she was distracted by the easy play of muscles in Jane's clenched arms, and, as was so often the case around the young detective, Maura found her thoughts wandering.

Ten weeks and 6 days. Ten weeks and 6 days since she had discovered Jane and Gretel kissing in the break room, and Maura was still at a loss as to her undeniably vehement negative response to it. Why was it easy for her to theorize reasons for other peoples responses to situations, and so impossible for her to diagnose her own? She was supposed to be a genius... whatever that meant. Did IQ points really make it easier to live your life? In Maura's experience the answer was a resounding no. Yes, it made school work easier – no need for endless studying when your brain easily absorbs the knowledge like a sponge – but real life, out in the world, with actual people? Definitely not. If anything, it made life more difficult. No one ever really wanted to be inundated with pointless statistics and facts... almost every person Maura had encountered had either given her a strange look and made their excuses to leave once Maura started talking, or were simply rude to her to make her stop. There were very few who actually seemed genuinely interested in her. Maura stopped studying the victim and let her eyes drift off to the side. In fact, she pondered, the only person of late who had appeared genuinely interested in her often rambling monologues had been... Jane.

Jane. The person Maura had been spending so much effort avoiding as of late. Avoiding or – she winced – being rude to, and for no good reason.

But... well, surely there _had_ to be a reason for her behaviour as of late? Maura knew herself well enough to know that she always reacted for a reason, even if it took her a while to figure out what that reason was. So what was it? Did she want to be in a relationship with Gretel? Well, the answer to that seemed simple enough... no. No, she didn't, because she barely even _knew_ Gretel. So... was it Jane then? Was she jealous of Jane for some reason? It couldn't be that she was jealous of Jane for being so forthcoming about her sexuality... Maura herself had announced her own homosexuality at the tender age of 13, and from that moment on had made no secret of it. Of course, Jane had thought she was straight... but was that her own fault, or was it Jane's? No, Maura mused, it wouldn't have been her fault... while she and Jane had been becoming more friendly, it wasn't to the point of discussing personal affairs. They were still purely professional with each other, so it was that Jane had simply made the _assumption_ of Maura's sexuality, and while that, in its own way, was irritating, Maura could fully understand. She did not fit the stereotypical lesbian mould, and so she had faced much prejudice and disbelief over her sexuality. As though, she scoffed, it was really anyone else's business...

But, she was allowing her thoughts to go off track. The reason for her behaviour, that's what she had been puzzling over, and now she was trying to figure out why she was jealous of Jane being in a relationship with Gretel... and why, even though she had managed to hide it so well, she had felt an undeniable joy fill her when Jane told her of the relationship ending. Surely, she thought absently, it couldn't be that she wanted to be in a relationship with _Jane?_ She scarcely knew her...

Maura felt her gaze lifting as a strange, hitherto not experienced feeling filled her body. Yes, she did want to be in a relationship with Jane. She _needed_ to be with Jane... because she, Maura, belonged to her. And she, Jane, belonged to Maura.

"Yes, Maura?"

Realizing that she had been staring absently, lost in thought, Maura started slightly, then ducked her head, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "I... sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt..."

"No, Maura, that's fine," Korsak, this time. "With you, we might even have a chance of catching this asshole... God knows you're better than Pike."

Maura hesitated as she searched her memory. _Oh._ Yes. Dr Pike, the man who had made several unwanted advances towards her as he proudly exclaimed about his own ability and prowess, at the meeting scheduled so she could be introduced to the other medical examiners. "Senior Criminalist Chang," Maura began hesitantly, "said his work was 'subpar'."

Korsak rolled his eyes. "That's a nice way of putting it."

"So what do you got?" Jane butted in impatiently, and Maura shot her a look. Jane half shrugged in reply, and Maura found herself ducking her head again, this time to hide the smile that threatened.

"What I _have_, Detective," Maura replied, with a special emphasis on the correct grammar that had Jane rolling her eyes in response, "is a cut with no ragged edges."

Jane stared blankly. "Meaning...?"

"_Meaning..._ the instrument used was something very sharp."

"Thank God you're here..."

"Sharper than an ordinary kitchen knife," Maura continued, cutting Jane off. "If I were inclined to guess..." she trailed off, already hating the idea of putting forth a suggestion that might be wrong. The encouraging look on Jane's face, however, made her continue, "It's a short blade," she said quickly, determined to state facts first, "perhaps as much as two inches long, though possibly as small as one inch. This much is evident by the amount of care the killer was able to take with the wound. He... or she, though studies suggest that 90% of serial murderers are actually male... would simply not be able to be as precise with a longer blade. There are no hesitation marks, which suggests a seasoned killer, as already stated by Detective Korsak," she gave the man in question a nod of acknowledgment, which was quickly returned, "and the way our killer so precisely severed the carotid artery suggests..." Maura stopped and swallowed before continuing, "suggests medical training, or at least extensive medical knowledge."

Jane was watching her keenly, her eyes narrowed. "You think the murder weapon is a medical instrument... a scalpel," she said shrewdly, and Maura slowly nodded.

"The evidence at this present time would certainly seem to support this theory."

"Right," Jane nodded. "Well, let's start looking up medical students with a criminal history Korsak, waddaya say?"

"Right," Korsak agreed, but stayed behind as Jane headed out to the car. Maura tilted her head, looking at him curiously.

"Yes, Detective?"

He smiled. "I'm really glad you came to Boston, Maura."

She flushed once more, looking down at the body, and waited till she heard his footsteps leave before she looked up again.

She was glad too.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

_For as long as she could remember, Maura had had flashes of something. The 'something' was like memories, but not of anything she could ever remember seeing... not of any places she could ever remember going. It was, as Maura thought, like a dream of a dream. She never got to see anything clearly... never got to hear a conversation, or even say a word (for she felt as though she was _there_somehow), but still it happened. Still, she saw the flashes, the glimpses... and still, she yearned to know more._

_She supposed that it started when Grandmother Isles had told her she had been there before, a mere four years prior. Maura wondered if it was she who planted the idea in her head, and her three year old self had... what was the expression? Run with it?... but it didn't seem likely, somehow. Although it definitely rung with the bell of extreme possibility, Maura knew enough to know that it had not _started _with Grandmother Isles... only made more sense._

_Climbing quietly up the stairs after a day of school, she poked her head into her father's study to say a soft 'hello', then continued up to her room, where she closed the door almost soundlessly, then leapt on stockinged feet over to her bed, laying down upon it with eyes squeezed shut, her arms crossed over her chest tightly, and she whispered into the near perfect silence._

_"__Please, let me remember."_

_"__Please..."_

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"I had an imaginary friend when I was young," Jane blurted out, pulling herself up onto the bench and swinging her legs. Maura blinked at her, nonplussed by her sudden arrival in the morgue, and her equally sudden segue into conversation.

"I... I'm sorry?"

"Oh. Hi," Jane replied, and Maura tilted her head confusedly. "Sorry," Jane continued, after a brief period of silence in which it became apparent Maura was too blindsided to actually reply, "I tend to do that. You know, just jump into conversations. You'll get used to it."

"I... I will?"

Now it was Jane's turn to tilt her head. "Or maybe you won't. Maybe I'll still surprise and amaze you, even after years working together." Maura's heart leapt at the words 'years' and 'together', so closely linked, until she registered the 'working' between them. She frowned down at the body on her table, realizing that, sooner rather than later, she was going to have to confront those bizarre animalistic feelings of 'mine' that had overcome her at the crime scene, and not looking forward to the moment of doing so.

"Sorry..." Jane continued awkwardly, after yet another moment of silence, "do you, uh... need silence to do autopsies in, or something?"

"No!" Maura replied hurriedly, as it looked like Jane was readying herself to leave. Jane's eyebrows rose. "No," Maura repeated, slower this time. "No, I... I just wasn't expecting to... to see you." She turned, looking at the body once more. "Weren't you looking up medical students?"

"Yeah," Jane groaned, making herself at home on the bench once more by scooting back and leaning against the window, arms folded comfortably across her chest, "but do you have any idea how huge of a job that is? I mean, the amount of students that come through Boston University alone... plus, we're not even sure if he's from this area!"

"So..." Maura asked, with a sinking heart, "it's basically useless as a lead?"

"Nah," Jane replied, sitting up and putting her hands on the bench beside her knees. "It's good... we just need _more_, you know?"

"I'm doing my best."

Jane's gaze immediately softened. "I know that, Maura. I just..." Maura watched as Jane's grip on the bench tightened to the point of her knuckles losing all colour, "he's got that woman somewhere. The wife. I just... need to find her."

Maura bit her lip, unsure of how to answer without repeating herself. "I..." she started but Jane interrupted.

"Anyway, I've got Frost onto it... he wants to be in the homicide unit too, it will do him good to get some practice, plus he's super geeky, so he can probably figure out a quick way to scan them all and stuff..."

Maura blinked. _Frost?_ "Frost?"

"My friend," Jane explained, with a small grin. "So then I started looking up the old case files of Crowe's and... I don't know how that man still has a job, honestly."

Maura smiled slightly. "That bad?"

"That bad," Jane agreed. "So, to get away from the _massive_ headache that was causing, I came down here."

"So... who's looking at the old case files then?"

"Korsak."

Maura frowned. "And... he doesn't mind you coming down here?"

Jane shrugged, a sudden impish gleam appearing in her eye. "I... might have said you texted me, wanting to tell me something."

Maura gaped, the body in front of her almost forgotten. "But I didn't!"

"Ah, but _Korsak_ doesn't know that." Hopping down from the bench, Jane approached the body, her gaze furrowed. "Oh, did I tell you what Crowe did to me this morning?"

Deciding not to mention that she still had not been talking to Jane that morning, Maura frowned. "No? What did he do?"

"He put a tampon that had dipped in red dye, into my water bottle."

Maura stared. "I... what... why?"

"Because he's a dick." Jane frowned moodily at the victim. "It's all good though. I tipped the water bottle over his head." She smiled again, the impish gleam back in her eye. "Accidentally, of course."

"Of... of course," Maura agreed slowly.

"So," Jane said abruptly, as though they had not just been discussing tampons in water bottles, "you were telling me about your childhood friend?"

"I... no, I wasn't."

Jane shrugged good naturedly. "Well, we gotta get to know each other at some point, right? Especially now that you're, you know, talking to me again. Gotta pick up as much gossip as I can so I can use it as blackmail the next time you get pissy for no reason."

Maura shot a glance at Jane, but when she saw her grin, she simply shook her head. "Fair point."

"So... why did you get pissy?"

Maura blinked down at the victim. "Can... I... I'm still contemplating my motives."

Jane shrugged, watching quietly for a few minutes as Maura began weighing the organs. "Fair enough," she finally said. "Will you tell me when you do work it out?"

"I make no promises."

"Right." There was another period of silence for a time, long enough to almost let Maura think she was alone once more, and she slowly let herself get immersed into the autopsy procedure again. When Jane spoke, it was enough to make Maura jump. She was grateful that Jane had waited until she had put down the things she was holding before speaking. "I never had an imaginary friend," she said quietly, as though confiding a secret. "I..." she shrugged, and Maura watched the play of emotions on her face with great interest. It seemed almost as though she was struggling with something...? "I did," Jane finally continued, "have a very active imagination, according to my mother."

Maura stared at her for a second, tallying the facial features. It was clear that Jane was telling the truth... but was it the whole truth? "I... I don't recall having an imaginary friend," she replied quietly, but almost immediately hesitated, as something pulled at the back of her memory. "I... I don't..." she stopped, frowning down at the tray of instruments in front of her. What was that memory that clawed desperately at the outer rims of her memory? It had been cast aside, she thought absurdly, because her friend did not want her to remember... or maybe she _did _want her to, and that's how the memory was still there. It had been cast aside then, by someone else, someone stronger, because, she thought even more absurdly, to remember was against the rules. Her friend had broken the rules coming to her. But what _was _the memory? "I think... I think... maybe... I did?" Maura spoke hesitantly. "I don't..." she said, then said abruptly, with no awareness that the words were coming, "I was five. She was there for a year."

Jane blinked at her, and Maura blinked back, her head feeling as sore and as tender as though it had gone through a dozen rounds with Mohammad Ali. "What... what was her name?" Jane asked hesitantly, almost hopefully (though, Maura thought later, she was surely imagining that, her own confusing thoughts creating things that weren't real), and Maura shook her head.

"I... I don't..."

"Jane!" Korsak appeared in the doorway, as if summoned by magic, and Jane hopped off the bench as quickly as though it had burnt her. Her expression though, Maura noticed, was not chastised... no, Jane simply looked eager to work. "I think we got something. Come upstairs."

"Right, be right there," Jane said, and Korsak bustled away quickly, while Jane turned to look at Maura curiously. "You'll call me, if you find anything?"

Maura swallowed, her head still reeling. "I... I'll call you."

"Okay." Jane smiled, a sudden smile that sent Maura even more off kilter, if that was possible, before leaving the morgue and following Korsak up to the bullpen. Maura sighed, her eyes falling shut.

_She is mine. I am hers._

She opened her eyes again. Clearly, she needed some sleep. Glancing down at the body in front of her, she sighed. _After_ she finished this autopsy.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_"_****_Well... that's not _****entirely ****_true," a voice spoke, but Maura could not see its owner. She felt uncommonly, though, almost like she had started watching a movie halfway through... like she was floundering to find out what, exactly, was happening. "I have a sister..."_**

**_"_****_You said..."_**

**_"_****_She's my half sister. We share the same father, not the same mother."_**

**_There was a silence before the second voice asked quietly, "What's her name?"_**

**_"_****_Carolyn..."_**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Maura woke up, blinking blearily, feeling unbelievably lost.

Who _was_ she?

**_END CHAPTER NINETEEN_**

_I really hope I'm telling this story properly and it's making sense to everyone. If you have any questions, please let me know... leave a review (as a member, so I can respond) or send me a PM and I'll do my best to reply. :-)_

_By the way, if you notice an absence of spaces between italicised words and non italicised words, it's not me. It's the site. Not sure if I've mentioned that before. But just point it out to me if you notice any so I can fix the ones I miss. :-) Thanks.  
_

_As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. Much love, Katie xoxo_


	20. Chapter 20

_Ahem. So, guess who is chatting to girls and might actually have a sort of date next week? *shyly raises hand* Woo for me. Also to anyone who is aware of my health issues: pain has been sooo much better these past few weeks, and I even managed a trip to gym yesterday! Loving 2015 so far! :-D  
Also, holy crap, we hit over 500 reviews. You guys seriously rock!  
_

Chapter Twenty

"Are you still pissed off at me?"

Maura looked up at Jane, the expression on her face one of someone who has been caught off guard with her defences down. Jane allowed herself a brief moment of guilt before pushing it aside roughly. Yes, she and Maura had had one decent conversation recently, but she was coming to realize that didn't mean anything. Maura was still acting strangely around her, and Jane was determined to find out why.

"I... I'm sorry?"

"Are... you... still... pissed off... at me?" Jane repeated, taking deliberate care to pronounce each word slowly and carefully. Maura's eyes narrowed and Jane took a certain amount of joy in the expression in her eyes. "Well?" she asked impatiently, when the question went unanswered for several long seconds.

"I... I have never been... 'pissed off' at you..."

"Bullshit!" Jane declared angrily, throwing her hands up in the air. "Nearly 3 months. 11 weeks, Maura, 11 weeks of you barely saying a word to me, and now it's been another week since our _actual, decent_ conversation, and you've barely spoken to me again!"

"I said good morning to you this morning," Maura replied weakly, and winced when Jane glared.

"Yes, because we pulled into BPD at almost the same time and walked in the door at the same moment. Hardly surprising that you spoke to me, considering we were practically sharing the same air!"

Maura's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open slightly, her gaze focusing just left of Jane's eyes. Jane stared at her for a few seconds – just what exactly was she thinking about? –before finally jerking her head irritably, which seemed to bring Maura out of her randomly induced haze. "I..." Maura blinked and shook her head, which seemed to clear it, as her next words were much more succinct. "I have never _hated_ you, Detective."

"_Jane_," Jane corrected grumpily, and watched as Maura's mouth twitched suspiciously.

"Jane then," she agreed. "I simply... I had conflicting emotions."

Jane pulled herself up onto the bench once more, her legs dangling as she thought deeply. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she was aware of Maura quietly returning to work, albeit cautiously, with many glances out of the corner of _her_ eye towards Jane. "Okay," Jane said finally, "so... you're lesbo too, right?"

Maura sighed. "I identify as almost exclusively homosexual, that is correct. On the Kinsey Scale, I identify as a 5 or 6."

Jane blinked. "Right, didn't understand a word of that."

"Well, the Kinsey Scale is..."

"Whatever," Jane waved a hand as though to shoo the offending words away, enjoying Maura's scowl and not missing the way her lips curved up slightly in amusement. "So whatever this Kingsley scale is..."

"_Kinsey!_"

"... I'm sure I'd be a 10 or something anyway, so whatever."

Maura sighed. "The scale only goes up to six. It is scored between 0 and 6, 0 being exclusively heterosexual, 6 being..."

"Fabulous?" Jane asked, a grin on her face. Maura stopped mid sentence and glared. When Jane waggled her eyebrows though, she let out an almost reluctant giggle.

"Well... anyway. There is also the result of 'X', which basically refers to those people who identify as asexual."

"Poor fuckers."

"A person can live a quite happy and fulfilled life without sex, Jane."

Jane shook her head. "Nah. Not for me. I like sex too much."

Maura blinked and breathed in deeply before replying. "Well then, you definitely would not be classed as 'X' then, would you?"

Jane smiled. "Nope, guess not." She hopped down off the bench, walking closer to Maura in a meandering type of way, weaving her way from one bench, where she pretended to examine a tool with interest, to the other, to a rolling tray... and, as she walked, she continued talking. "Okay, so you're gay... I'm gay... you got annoyed at me when you saw me kissing Gretel..." Jane stopped in place and clicked her fingers. She had it, she knew the reason Maura had been upset! It was so obvious, actually, that Jane was surprised she'd not seen it or guessed at it before. What kind of detective was she, anyway? Not one who could find the Surgeon, apparently... pushing aside the thought of the poor young woman who had been discovered dumped in a park a few days prior, her body barely cold, Jane pressed on. "I've got it!" She watched as Maura's eyes widened guiltily, Jane's inner demon taking delight at the discomfort her hesitation in speaking was causing. Soon enough though, her conscience got the better of her and she spoke. "You," she began triumphantly, "have a crush!"

Almost instantly, Maura's cheeks burned red, and she ducked her head down to stare at the evidence she was currently going over. Jane grinned. "I... I don't kno..."

"Don't deny try to deny it!" Jane warned, and Maura looked affronted.

"I wouldn't lie!"

"Uh huh," Jane replied, unconvinced.

"I wouldn't! Besides," Maura added, somewhat sheepishly, "I can't lie."

Jane blinked, walking the final few steps until she stood only a half metre away from Maura, whose head reared back slightly, seemingly out of reflex. "Wait. What do you mean, 'you can't lie'?"

Maura lifted one shoulder, her gaze drifting off to one side slightly. _Lying?_ Jane wondered, but quickly realized: no. Not lying. Nervous. She had been made fun of for this – whatever _this_ was – before. "I mean... I can't lie. I suffer from negative physical responses."

Jane frowned. "What, like your hands get all sweaty and stuff?"

"I go vasovagal."

"You... eat a bagel?"

"I faint."

"Huh. That escalated quickly."

Maura's brow furrowed. "Pardon?"

Jane waved her hand. "Never mind. You faint, huh? Anything else?"

"I also come down with the effects of urticaria." Jane frowned. Hives, huh? What a strange reaction to lying. She wondered if there was anything in Maura's past that had led her to such extreme responses, and felt herself becoming surprisingly antsy at the idea that there perhaps _was _a reason. Meanwhile, apparently misconstruing Jane's silence for misunderstanding, Maura continued. "Hives. They are a rash of round, red weals on the skin... usually intensely itchy... they are generally caused by an allergic reaction to some food or airborne speci..."

"I know what urticaria is, Maura," Jane said impatiently, waving her hand once more, then added slowly, "So wait... you're allergic to lying?"

Maura stopped mid word, and blinked slowly. "I... well, no, I don't believe I am allergic to lying _itself_ – in fact, I don't think that's even possible – ...but the stress of bearing false witness creates a release of the hormones cortisol and epinephrine... and it's possible I have an allergy to the production of too _much_ of these certain hormones, so... are you laughing at me?"

Jane suppressed the giggle that was trying to come out. "No?" Maura gave her a disbelieving look. "Yes? Okay, I'm sorry, but did you really say 'bearing false witness'? Like, from the bible?"

Maura nodded slowly. "The ninth commandment, to be precise, though I did not intend to quote from the bible, I simply wished to find a synonym for the word 'lying' so as to avoid overusing it too many times in the one sentence..." She trailed off as Jane let out a loud guffaw. "What?" she asked, seeming genuinely baffled.

"The _ninth_ commandment? Not the sixth, or the fourth?"

"No, the sixth commandment states that 'you shall not commit adultery', while the fourth states for one to 'honor thy father and thy mother'."

Jane shook her head. This woman! "Okay, I give up, do you just memorise weird shit to freak people out with your knowledge?"

Maura looked somewhat offended. "The commandments are not 'weird'."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Fine. Random shit then. Anyway..." she slowly started heading back towards the bench, pulling herself up onto it again when she reached it, "I didn't peg you for the religious type."

Maura carefully avoided eye contact, Jane noticed, as she replied. "I'm not. But... my parents... they liked for me to attend."

"Without them?" Jane realized that she felt hungry, and started looking around for a potential food source, but it seemed like such sources were scarce in this place. Well, she thought with a slight smile, it _was_ a morgue.

"They were not overly religious themselves."

Jane rummaged through her pockets, finally coming up with a couple of old mentos lollies. She picked the hairs off them and popped them in her mouth, ignoring Maura's scrunched up nose. "So why'd they send you?"

Silence greeted her question. Jane chewed on her lollies as she watched Maura, who was attempting to give off the impression she had not heard the question – and failing miserably too, if she might add – when suddenly a potential answer popped into her head and she hurriedly swallowed.

"Oh my God. No. No, they didn't try to make you 'pray away the gay' or anything, did they?"

Maura stayed silent, giving Jane all the answer she needed.

"Wow. Some people are really stupid."

"They're very intelligent people, Jane."

Jane scoffed. "Obviously not that intelligent." She paused, then asked, "When did you tell them?"

"I was 14." Maura hesitated before adding, "They stopped sending me to counsellors when I met Garrett."

"Who was Garrett?"

"My boyfriend."

Jane blinked. "You had a boyfriend when you knew you were gay?"

Maura shrugged, still holding the same piece of evidence she was when Jane came in, and Jane felt a momentary stab of guilt: was she keeping Maura from her work too much? But Maura's back story was truly fascinating... Jane didn't feel like she could tear herself away just yet. "It was an arrangement that suited us both well. He didn't want a girlfriend, I didn't want a boyfriend, but it kept our families happy."

Jane blinked. "Right. Well, whatever works, I guess."

Maura remained silent, watching as Jane once again began scrounging through her pockets for lollies or food she might have missed. Finally, "Oh for Heaven's sake!" she said frustratedly, peeling her gloves off and walking off to a nearby fridge bad temperedly. Jane craned her neck, watching curiously. But, she thought determinedly, she was _not_ looking at Maura's ass. No sir-e-bob. She might have _glanced_ at it, but it was hardly her fault... suddenly noticing that Maura had opened the door and gotten whatever she wanted out of it already, Jane watched wide-eyed as Maura walked up to her, holding out...

"A sandwich?"

"You're clearly hungry. Rather than eat outdated sugary concoctions out of your pockets, I thought you might appreciate this." Jane looked at the sandwich curiously. "It's ham and cheese, Jane, quite safe."

"It was in the dead people fridge." Jane crinkled her nose, tentatively bringing the plastic up to her nose for a sniff. Was it just her, or did the bag smell like decay? Of course, there was a certain smell of decay in the room in general – Maura would need to go on one of her OCD cleaning frenzies shortly, Jane thought – but no, she was certain that _some _of the smell came from the bag.

Maura sighed. "I have a food shelf in the fridge. Nothing pertaining to dead people has ever been on that shelf. Nothing pertaining to dead people will _ever_ be on that shelf. And it's at the top of the fridge. It's safe."

Jane guiltily lowered the ziplock bag. "Right. Uh... thank you."

"You're welcome."

Jane gnawed at her lip nervously as she stared at Maura, who had diligently returned to work. "It was really shitty, the way you treated me," she finally blurted out. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Maura froze. After several long beats, and with her head still down, she replied quietly. "I know."

"I actually really liked... _like_... you. You know, you're a great person. But I didn't understand why you just..."

Maura looked up, and Jane noted with some horror that her eyes were watery.

"Hey, hey, it's okay!" she exclaimed hurriedly, "I mean, I probably earned it in some way, I can be a bit of a dick sometimes, I know..."

"No," Maura said softly, wiping at her eyes quickly. Jane leaned over and swiped some tissues from further down the bench, then hopped down and approached Maura cautiously. "No," Maura continued, after blowing her nose, "I shouldn't have... I mean, you... you're the first person who was ever... and..."

Jane blinked. For a woman who was normally so succinct... "And?"

Maura gulped. "I'm sorry," she said softly, glancing up towards Jane, who only then realized how close together they were standing. She could count every tear drop glittering on Maura's long eyelashes, and see the exquisite mix of colours in Maura's eyes. It was astonishing, really, how many colours there were... and it was amazing too, that instead of backing away, both women were stepping closer...

Maura really _was_ amazing, Jane thought in awe. She was quirky, and funny, but Jane understood her. And... Maura made her happy in a way Jane hadn't often felt before. As she allowed her eyes to move down Maura's face to visually caress what looked like amazingly soft lips, she thought back to their first meeting, the way the setting sun had silhouetted Maura's face, the way Jane had to squint to see her facial features.

In fact, it seemed to remind her of something... a first meeting with someone else...

_Gr...?_

Before the half formulated thought had fully taken hold, Jane's phone rang, followed by Maura's a mere second later. Grimacing in apology, Jane answered the call, and after a brief conversation, she looked at Maura who had hung up at the same moment.

"The Surgeon?" Jane asked.

Maura pursed her lips grimly. "By the sounds of it, yes."

"We need to get this fucker, Maura," Jane declared antsily, fishing her keys out of her pocket. "I'll drive?"

Maura looked at her beadily for only a second or two before responding. "Sounds excellent."

Jane grinned, her previous half formed thoughts forgotten.

She and Maura were friends again. She and Maura were. Friends. Again. Jane's grin widened as she held the door open so the other woman could walk ahead.

"Thank you, Detective."

"You are most welcome."

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_"_****_What would you be? If you could be anything?" Grace asked, running her fingers through soft blonde hair as Beatie rested her head in her lap._**

**_"_****_What do you mean? Would I be a bug or something?"_**

**_"_****_No," Grace replied, letting out a soft laugh. Beatie watched in admiration as the action caused a dozen laughter lines to form against Grace's soft, middle-aged skin, and thought to herself for the billionth time, how lucky she was. "No, I mean... you made a fine teacher. But there were days when you came home, and you looked... empty."_**

**_"_****_I was always happy," Beatie said quickly, sitting up and staring at Grace earnestly. "With you, always."_**

**_"_****_I know, my Beatie..." Grace said, gently pushing Beatie down so she was lying down once more. "But I wondered what you would do as a _****career****_, if you could."_**

**_Beatie was silent for several long beats, long enough for Grace to wonder if she'd fallen asleep. Her hand faltered as she leaned over to check. "I'm awake," Beatie said almost instantly. "I just..." she sighed. "I don't know. I want to help people."_**

**_"_****_You help people by teaching them."_**

**_"_****_I know," Beatie said, and sat up, frustration causing her to draw her knees up, her arms wrapping around them tightly. "I just... I wanted to do _****more."**

**_"_****_Like?" Grace asked, moving closer once again so she could gently trail her nails down Beatie's back, waiting until Beatie shivered slightly to ask her next question, "Like being a police officer?"_**

**_Beatie hunched in tighter, letting Grace know that her guess was correct. "There are women police in some areas," Beatie said softly. "It's only new... but it's happening. But," she sighed heavily, looking down at the river that splashed happily along, "it won't happen here. Besides," she laughed mirthlessly, "I'm too old now."_**

**_"_****_But it's always been your dream," Grace said softly, and Beatie nodded, picking up a rock and absentmindedly turning it over in her hands several times before throwing it into the water._**

**_"_****_Yes."_**

**_Grace wrapped herself around Beatie from behind. "You never know what could happen," she said, then whispered softly into a waiting ear, "Never give up on a dream, my detective. Never."_**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"It's certainly the work of The Surgeon again, Jane."

Jane groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Great. It's like he's just playing us now. He's taunting us."

"He's telling us that he's smarter than us," Korsak added, frowning down heavily at the body.

Jane breathed in deeply, held it for several seconds, then let it go with a 'whoosh'. It did not serve to calm her down. "Right. Well, do we have a name?"

"Benjamin Cordell. His wife, Catherine, is missing."

"Of course she is," Jane said through gritted teeth. "He needs to have his fun with her before he kills her, after all." She glanced at the body again, ignoring the worried look Maura shot her. "Same M.O., Maura? Scalpel slit to the throat?"

"Yes," Maura replied, turning her attention back to the body. "In here, or so it would seem... his body does not seem to have been disturbed."

"Oh, he was disturbed alright," Jane muttered, but Maura ignored her, glancing up towards the ceiling. "What?"

"A reddish brown substance," Maura murmured, pointing to a small spot on the ceiling.

"Blood?"

"A reddish brown substance consistent with the pattern of arterial blood spray."

Jane pulled a face. "Right, so we've got blood on the ceiling..." she ignored Maura's attempts at correction and stared around a room. "Tea cup under the coffee table... but it's the same as the other crime scene. It's too clean."

"He took the time to clean up," Korsak said, "which means he's cocky. Sure of himself. He knew that no one would find him before he was finished."

"No one's _that_ good," Jane muttered, still staring at the small patch of blood on the ceiling. "He missed that, didn't he?" She looked at Korsak determinedly. "We're coming here tonight... you too Maura... and we're checking this place thoroughly for anything left behind."

Maura frowned. "The crime scene techs from the last crime scene didn't find anything. What makes you think we will find something they didn't?"

"Because," Jane replied, her gaze narrowed, "this guy is not as good as he thinks he is. And I'm gonna prove it." She strode outside, her pace brisk, but stopped abruptly when she reached the driveway, looking at the crowd of gawkers that had assembled. "I'm gonna prove it," she muttered to herself once more.

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY_**

_As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.  
Also, thank you to anyone who reviewed New Years Eve! For such a quickly typed up fic, I was not expecting such an awesome response so thank you :-D  
love to all, -Katie xoxo_


	21. Chapter 21

_Hi all! So... I'll be interested to hear what you think of this chapter. I have begun to show certain things and I wonder if they will be picked up on. Well, enough speculating. On to the chapter!_

Chapter Twenty-One

"Who the hell _is_ this guy?" Jane raged, standing up so quickly that her chair shot backwards forcefully, hitting the desk of the detective behind her. "Sorry," she said quickly, her gaze already focused on Korsak. "Okay, have we gotten _anywhere_ with the medical angle that Maura brought up?"

Korsak shrugged. "There are quite literally thousands of people that have been to medical school in Boston alone. Countless more outside Boston. It's..." he raised his hands helplessly before dropping them to his desk again, "it's quite literally like trying to find a needle in a haystack."

Jane shook her head, walking over to the blackboard they were using to map out their progress. "It's scary, isn't it?" she asked quietly, staring at a picture of the first victim. She could feel his terror in the photo... even though he was obviously dead, the terror that he would have felt in his final... what? Minutes? Hours?... was apparent. Not only for himself... no, he would have been more worried for his wife. Watching her getting tortured... raped... seeing her fear, hearing her scream... Jane shuddered. If it had been Grace... Jane didn't know what she would have done. What _Beatie_ would have done.

"What's scary?" Korsak asked, and Jane started, turning around to look at him. It was apparent by the look on his face that he had asked before... perhaps numerous times.

"Sorry... I just... it's scary thinking of this guy in the medical field. I mean," Jane slowly turned, returning to her desk, "you go to a doctor thinking 'this guy will help me. He's sworn to do no harm.' But... what if those were just _words_ to him? What if the only reason he wanted to learn... was so that he could do as much harm as possible?"

Korsak pursed his lips and shook his head, looking down at his hands. "Jane..."

"What?"

Korsak looked at her beadily for a few minutes and Jane began to feel the familiar squirming sensation of being read thoroughly that she had always felt from Lieutenant Michaels. "Look... I've been in this field for a while now..."

"Yeah?" Jane asked, sitting up and crossing her arms in a defensive posture. "So?"

"So..." he sighed again, "look, it's just... being... _doing_ this... it can begin to jade you, you understand? Can make you think things..."

Jane uncrossed her arms and ran her fingers through her hair. "I know, I know. Look, I know I'm young. I know I'm a woman. But," she continued when Korsak tried to protest, "I am also damn good at my job. I'm not about to think that everyone out there is a murderer, okay? You need to have a little more faith in me than that. I just... I just think it's scary. That's all. Am I going to stop going to the doctor? No. Am I going to stop trusting everyone? No. I just think that the idea that _this guy _has been to medical school..." Jane trailed off suddenly, her brain suddenly kicking into overdrive. Maura never said this guy was actually a doctor, had she? She simply said that he had had medical training. Medical training... that didn't necessarily equate he had finished his study. What was it Maura had said, back before the whole Gretel incident? She had said that serial killers rarely just started killing on the spur of the moment. There were usually signs. Well hidden, of course... that's why they were so hard to catch... but there were definitely signs. Tortured animals, bullying that went just a little bit beyond normal playground stuff... "What if he didn't finish medical school?" Jane asked slowly.

Korsak blinked. "What?"

"What if he got kicked out?"

"Well... okay, but Jane, that's still a lot of people when you take into account that we don't know where this asshole is from... and sometimes people drop out due to health reasons... they change their mind... they can't afford it..."

"No," Jane replied. "No, I'm thinking something will stand out about this guy. And," she added, jumping to her feet and patting her belt for her phone, finally glimpsing it half buried under papers on her desk, "we're only gonna look in Boston."

"In Boston? You're taking a pretty big leap there..."

"Most serial killers like familiar territory. I think he's moved around a bit... we'll probably find those victims if we look... but I think that this is his home base. It's why he came back." Quickly dialling Frost's number, she ignored the look of incredulity on Korsak's face. He was just going to have to get used to her, that was all. And he was going to have to stop doubting her.

Jane glanced out the window as she waited for Frost to pick up. Only three hours till nightfall.

_I'll get you, you fucker._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"I heard you are now looking for medical students that did not complete medical school," Maura greeted Jane as she pulled up behind the morgue van and got out of the car.

"Yeah, news travels fast..." Jane replied, looking at Korsak who looked both guilty and unapologetic. "Right, so you going to tell me it's a waste of time too, then?" she asked Maura roughly, who looked somewhat taken aback.

"No. No, actually, what I was going to say was that I thought it was quite a good idea, particularly only looking in the Boston area. He has been to this area before, and serial killers generally..."

"... like familiar territory," Jane finished absently, watching as morgue technicians began unloading the expensive equipment that would light up bodily fluids like Christmas lights in the dark. "Do they need a hand?"

Maura glanced over, frowning. "I'm not s... Shawn, Lucas, are you alright?"

When the two men replied in the affirmative, Maura turned to Jane and smiled. "As I was saying, the fact that you think our perpetrator has had previous transgressions is almost certain to be accurate as well. While it's not unheard of for these people to just suddenly start killing others without warning..."

"... it's far more likely that they'll have started living out their fantasies at a young age by animal cruelty, or going above and beyond in playground bullying," Jane finished once more, still watching as the two men unloaded the rest of the equipment. She began to follow behind them, still aware of Maura whose jaw still hung open, her gaze focused on Jane's retreating back.

"You listen to me? _And _remember what I say?" Maura asked suddenly, almost tripping over in her efforts to catch up to the other woman. Jane smiled, instinctively reaching out a hand to steady her; a hand Maura gratefully accepted.

"Yeah," Jane shrugged. "You know your shit, Maura. I respect that."

Jane could feel Maura's gaze on her for several seconds after that, but she kept her eyes pointed ahead, trying to remain focused on what they were here for. "Thank you," Maura finally said softly though, and Jane couldn't help herself: she shot a small smile at her. Maura's gentle smile in answer was somehow the best thing Jane had seen in her whole life, and as she unlocked the front door to the house, she felt a flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with the job that lay ahead.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Okay, so talk me through this."

"I've never used this technology before," Maura began, and even though Jane couldn't see her face in the deliberately created absolute blackness of the room, she could still hear the excitement in her voice, "but it's supposed to be absolutely awe-inspiring. What it does, is make bodily fluids glow..."

Korsak laughed, not unkindly. "I would hope so, Maura."

Jane felt a surge of irritation towards her new partner, especially as the next time Maura spoke, she suddenly sounded a lot more hesitant. "I... well, yes. But this," she began again, the excitement creeping back into her voice, "is supposed to be able to differentiate between bodily fluids. You see, it's all to do with the light... semen, saliva and vaginal fluids are all naturally fluorescent, so the use of a UV light source enables a unique method of finding them. Of course, bodily fluids can be transferred other ways – for example, forgetting to wash your hands after using the toilet-"

"Ew," Jane interrupted. Maura ignored her.

"... can lead to bodily fluids being placed on surfaces by a process known simply as 'transfer'. So, it's necessary to eliminate the accidental fluid spillage from the incidental... which is why this..." she patted the equipment next to her, "is so good. It allows us to tune to specific wavelengths of colour, which will almost completely eliminate these background interferences."

"So..." Korsak began slowly, "do we need to tune it to different settings to see different types of fluid?"

"Yes," an unfamiliar voice piped up and Jane frowned for a few seconds before she placed it as Shawn's. "I'll show you the blood spray first..."

"This room will light up like a Christmas tree," Jane said mirthlessly.

"Blood actually darkens to enhance its contrast, Jane," Maura corrected, and Jane rolled her eyes.

"I know, Maura," she said, smiling as she spoke so that her words were softened. "It's a figure of speech."

"Oh."

Shawn continued as though he had not been interrupted, "then vaginal secretions, then semen. We can look for saliva and urine too, if needed."

Jane glanced to her left, forgetting that she couldn't see Korsak until she had already turned. She rolled her eyes at herself. "Alright, sounds good. Let's do this thing."

A small torch lit up the control panel of the equipment, and Jane watched interestedly as he began setting it all up.

"Does it allow us to see," she asked suddenly, "the age of the blood? You know, the order in which it... came to be?"

"No," Maura said regretfully. "That sort of technology is not present yet. But occasionally by looking at the patterns, I can form a hypothesis as to the order of blood spillage. Not always though. And that is in circumstances where..." she hesitated, and Jane could see by the dim light provided by Shawn's flashlight, her looking around the room, "where the blood has not been cleaned up. Truthfully I'm..." she lifted a shoulder helplessly, "I'm not sure what's going to happen here, nor how useful it will be."

Jane nodded thoughtfully, but was distracted by Korsak when he spoke up. "He's not that good, Maura. You heard Jane. We'll still find something."

Jane could see that Korsak's words had induced a smile, and she suddenly felt a wave of affection towards him. He wasn't perfect, for sure – lately Jane had found herself battling more often than not against certain prejudices that he held firm, and she found it very difficult to talk to him or even share ideas for that very reason – but he seemed to truly like Maura, and for that, Jane was grateful.

"All right..." Shawn said abruptly, and Jane turned to him quickly. "We're almost up and running... everyone has their protective glasses?"

Jane hurriedly searched her pockets, quickly finding the glasses and putting them on. Judging by the scrounging sounds around her, the others were doing the same. Once all had asserted that they were, in fact, wearing their protective gear, Shawn flicked his torch off and flicked the machine on. Almost instantly, the room was lit by a soft, faintly blue light, and on the walls...

"My God," said Lucas softly. "Is that _all_ blood?"

"Yep," said Korsak grimly. "He cleaned it up to the naked eye... but not well enough."

Jane remained silent, looking around the room. The blood was everywhere, or so it seemed. Dripping down the walls, on the ceiling... yes, it was marred by the obvious cleaning motions of their killer, but Jane could easily imagine the gore before he had a chance to clean it up.

"Jane?" Maura said softly, and Jane felt tentative fingers touch her arm. She turned to look at Maura, who, somehow, managed to look anything _but_ ridiculous in her glasses. Jane wished she could say the same for herself. "What are you thinking?"

Jane shook her head slowly. "I'm thinking... this guy... he's smart, right?"

"Some serial killers do have an exceptionally high IQ, yes."

"He's taunting us. Why else would he bother to clean up, but not do a proper job of it?"

Maura looked at her but didn't respond, instead simply getting her crime scene camera off the trolley and walking off to take photos. Jane followed close behind, looking at everything she could, trying to get a feel behind the crime.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Shawn's voice rang out again. "Are we ready to change our filters to show semen now?"

Maura clicked a few more photos with the camera that, Jane could only assume, took pictures of the room exactly as is, with the blood highly visible on the walls, then gave the signal for him to swap light filters. He pushed a couple of buttons, and the light changed slightly... it was barely perceptible, Jane thought, except that now, the carnage on the walls was invisible once more. The violence could not be seen, she thought with a slight shudder, but it could still be felt.

Oh yes, it could still be felt.

Lit by a similar, extremely dull gloomy blue light, Jane headed over to the couch. She gave its cushions only a perfunctory glance however; the dead man had been found sitting here, and from all Maura had said, he had likely spent his last minutes or hours in this exact place. There was a slight shine on one of the cushions – Jane looked at it for mere seconds before looking away. It was almost certainly guaranteed that that was from happier times... from the two victims having sex on the couch, rather than rape.

Rape? Was that what she was looking for? Jane hesitated only briefly. Yes, she thought, evidence of rape was exactly what she was looking for. How better for this asshole to torture both partners. To make the wife his victim... and the husband, a helpless observer. Jane pursed her lips and dropped to her knees, crawling forward slowly.

"Jane?" Korsak said, and Jane could almost feel his curious stare. "Uh... there's semen on the couch."

"Not his," Jane muttered, and kept crawling, her gloved hands making careful sweeps just above the surface of the carpet, trying to ensure she hit every single spot, that she looked at every single inch. Finally, she sat back on her haunches. "There's nothing," she sighed.

"Even if there was something, Jane," Korsak said, sounding impatient, "how do you know it wasn't... you know, this couple?"

"No," Jane said, stretching out her neck. "No, they've been married for, what, four years? They've been in this house for only one and a half... no, they'd be past the stage of having sex on the floor I reckon." Still stretching her neck, Jane leaned forward to brace her hands on the ground in anticipation of standing up.

"They had sex on the couch apparently," Korsak muttered, but Jane ignored him; as she had swivelled her head as far right as she could, trying to work out a kink that was building there, she had spotted a stain on the rug under the coffee table. "I mean, according to you, it wasn't..." he trailed off as Jane rapidly crawled forward, pushing the table out of the way. "What is it?"

Jane shook her head, looking at the mat. "He turned the mat around," she said softly, and shook her head. "This guy _is_ smart."

"You found semen?" Maura asked, and Jane pointed to the patch that shone faintly silver under the carefully concentrated light. Maura knelt down beside her, examining the patch closely, and as she came down, Jane caught a whiff of her perfume, and closed her eyes against the sudden swooping sensation that went through her stomach. Huh, she thought absently, maybe she should have eaten lunch today. She _did_ still have that sandwich Maura gave her... at the thought, Jane wrinkled her nose. She would be fine. "I'll take a swab of the substance and get the crime lab to analyse it," Maura said after a few seconds, taking Jane out of her thoughts.

"Right. Thanks, Maura."

"You're welcome, Jane," Maura replied with a smile, and Jane felt another swooping sensation in her lower belly.

It was definitely time to eat.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_"_****_So... wait... how do you know so much? No, I'm being serious. How?"_**

**_Jane blinked, the familiar voice jarring her for a second before she placed it as her own... well, Beatie's anyway. She suppressed the urge to groan – could a person groan in dreams? Especially dreams that were actually flashbacks? – and glanced around. She was in familiar settings... the riverbank where Beatie and Grace had first kissed... and she looked around before sitting down impatiently. There was so much for her to do at work, she had no right to be sleeping right now! But experience had shown her in past experiences that attempting to wake herself up did not work, and in fact all it did was cause her to miss most of the dream. And she supposed... well, surely there had to be a _****reason********_she was getting the dreams? They weren't all that frequent for sure... only one a week, if she was lucky... but they were still present, and Jane supposed it was her duty to pay attention. For all she knew, it was Grace sending them to her somehow._**

**_Jane thought about that for several seconds before wrinkling her nose and shaking her head. No. Unlikely. It was more likely to be... she frowned. There was someone... someone who was responsible for... _****something****_... "Ugh!" Jane moaned out loud, then hastily looked up at Grace and Beatie, who had not appeared to notice anything. Thank Heaven, Jane thought, then almost cursed again as her thought process went back to the same thing. What _****was********_it that she couldn't remember?_**

**_And, most importantly, how could this dream help her to solve these murders and rescue the woman who might still be alive?_**

**_"_****_...a virtue, I think, and..."_**

**_"_****_What, you don't like my new name for you?"_**

**_Jane blinked, turning her attention back to the couple in front of her. If she was here, she better pay attention. Though she had a suspicion she had already missed some of what had been said._**

**_"_****_I... I don't mind it..." Grace was blushing slightly, pulling gently at the grass around her, gently enough, Jane noted with a small smile, that not a single blade was pulled from its home in the ground. "I mean, you have a nickname."_**

**_"_****_I won't call you it if you don't like it though. I quite _****like********_Beatie now. And plus," Beatie shrugged, looking slightly bashful, "you have a nickname already too."_**

**_"_****_Saving Grace, you mean?" Grace asked and when Beatie gave a small nod, she smiled and curled herself further into Beatie's chest. "A person can have two nicknames."_**

**_"_****_Great... so mine shall be Beatie... and yours shall be Saving Grace and Encyclo..."_**

"Jane! Jane, your neck is not going to appreciate sleeping in that position." Jane opened her eyes blearily and blinked them several times until Maura came into focus, her brow furrowed in worry. "You look exhausted. Let me take you home."

Jane sat up and squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden pounding in her head. Rubbing her temples firmly, she squinted her eyes open to look at Maura. "You don't look much better."

Maura just waved a hand impatiently. "I had a short nap before we went to the house tonight. I'm fine. I'll drop you home and pick you up in the morning."

Jane gave up on her temples and instead pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn't think of any good reason to not go with Maura, so she nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks Maura."

"It's fine," Maura replied, waiting just long enough for Jane to collect her things before turning and walking towards the elevators. Jane followed, rubbing her eyes blearily. What had been the purpose behind this current dream, she wondered? 'Encycle' was all she had gotten from it (at least, that's what it had sounded like) as Grace's other nickname... what was that? Was it a type of bicycle that perhaps became briefly popular during that time period? Should she be looking for a cyclist?

"Did you know," Maura piped up brightly, bringing Jane out of her thoughts with a jolt, "that it's speculated that elevators have been around since around 236 BC? It was believed that the people of that time used hemp rope and a platform as a lifting device, and it was either powered by hand or by animals." Maura smiled brightly at Jane, who couldn't help but smile and roll her eyes fondly in return.

"Okay Googlemouth. Focus on the case, okay?"

Maura smiled brightly, turning as the elevator arrived and walking inside. Jane followed behind, still smiling wanly and thought vaguely that as far as recollections went, that one had to be pretty much bottom of the pile. Encycle... _really?_

Well, she'd just have to wait for the next one, and hope it provided better insight. For now...

"... 1886 is regarded as the birth year for the common car. Prior to that... and for many years later... horses, with or without carriages, were the preferred method for most people..."

For now, Jane thought she would be just fine.

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY ONE_**

_It's my birthday today (seriously, it actually is). So you should all review because you love me and you love this story and and and... umm, you want me to shut up and stop being a review whore? (not gonna happen, sorry) HAHA_

_Nah, seriously, thanks for reading. Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	22. Chapter 22

_haha you guys are funny. I expected you all to pick up on the 'encyclopaedia' thing. I don't have so little faith in you as to think you wouldn't all get that! But more things become clear in this chapter. :-)_

Chapter Twenty Two

"Nothing? Just... seriously, _nothing?_"

"We came up with a DNA profile," Maura explained again patiently – though, if truth be told, it was a little less patient than the last two times she had said these exact words, "but he does not come up on any database we've run."

Jane threw her hands up in the air. "Right, so he's not a Boston resident. Let's look at nearby places."

Maura bit her lip. "We ran a nationwide search."

Jane frowned. "Wait, who's 'we'?"

Maura blinked. "Officer Frost assisted me."

"You... how do you know Frost?" Jane's eyes were narrowed and Maura frowned back at her.

"He wants to work his way into homicide. He was eager to assist in the current case."

Jane's eyes darted back and forth between Maura's own, but finally she seemed satisfied by what she saw there. Maura wondered what it was she had been looking for, but Jane did not seem in a hurry to elaborate. "Yeah," Jane said, finally relaxing and looking around Maura's office curiously. It was, Maura realized with a small start, actually the first time Jane had been inside her office; usually they spoke in the morgue room itself. "Yeah," Jane repeated, turning to look at the masks that Maura had up on the wall, "he's a good kid. Always willing to help. Smart, too. Ridiculously smart at computer stuff."

"Yes," Maura agreed. "I do ag..."

"I mean," Jane shrugged, heading over to one of Maura's new chairs and looking it over curiously, "granted, he's not as smart as you. But who is?"

Maura frowned and opened her mouth to respond, when Jane sat down in the chair. Almost instantly, Maura's lips disobediently curved into a smile as she watched Jane's face.

"What the fuck?" Jane asked, looking at the chair as though it had done her a great dishonour. "Did you actually buy this thing?"

"Yes, of course I did."

"And you paid _money_ for it?"

"It's a Karim Rashid label!"

"Right, cause _that _makes it comfy."

Maura sniffed. "I can't help it if you can't appreciate fashion."

Jane growled, standing up again. "I _won't_ appreciate fashion if it doesn't appreciate my butt!"

Unable to help herself, Maura dissolved into giggles, while Jane stood back and watched her with an odd sort of emotion on her face... was that affection? Maura was determined to analyse it, but the expression passed as quickly as it came, leaving only gentle amusement in its wake.

"You just got this so no one would want to visit you for long, right?"

Maura lifted a shoulder, a small smile on her face. "I admit to nothing."

"Of course you don't," Jane said with a smile, her gaze moving from Maura's eyes to her lips to her neck... down her body... and finally to the papers resting on the desk. The smile slid off her face almost instantly, and Maura felt her own smile slipping as she looked down at the papers too. There they were, the admission that they were still at square one. It was so _frustrating_, Maura thought with a soft growl. They were able to form so many theories on this perpetrator, hypothesize how he grew up, what he did... they even had his _DNA_ now... but they were still no closer to finding out who he was. "Come on, Maura," Jane murmured softly and Maura glanced up, surprised by the pleading note in Jane's voice. "There has to be _something_ out there on this guy."

Maura shrugged helplessly. "He's smart, Jane. He knows how to cover his tracks."

Jane threw her hands up in the air. "Smart, yeah! But to not have his DNA anywhere? I mean... this guy went to medical school, Maura! You said so yourself!"

"I _theorized_ its _probability_, Jane," Maura hastily corrected, but Jane didn't appear to notice.

"So, I mean... this kid... this guy... whoever. He can't have just... sprung out of nowhere. I mean, there has to be records of him _somewhere._"

Maura nibbled at her lip anxiously. "How's the search through medical school student histories going?"

"Come to a road block," Jane replied, and, with a grunt, flung herself into the chair she had previously claimed so uncomfortable. "We're calling up the schools to get the records we can't access on the internet, and they're not playing ball."

Maura frowned. "They're not helping? Why?"

"We need to get a court order first." Jane threw her head back and looked at the ceiling. "It's all just paperwork bullshit. And, of course, practically half the judges in the Boston area are all taking holidays right now, so it's getting damned near impossible for us to get one signed." With a sigh, Jane pushed herself to her feet. "Anyway. I better go."

"But..." Maura shook her head, "wait, what are you going to do if it's impossible to get the records for a few more days?"

"Ah," Jane replied, and winked blatantly. Maura felt her insides squirm pleasantly at the action, "I said _near_ impossible. Not impossible."

Maura blinked confusedly. "What?"

"Never you mind. You just focus on..." Jane waved her hand vaguely at the paperwork, then behind her towards the morgue, "whatever you need to work on here. Help us catch this guy, okay?" Jane smiled trustingly and Maura felt herself straightening almost imperceptibly.

"I will."

Jane left with another intriguing smile and Maura found herself watching the empty doorway for several seconds after she had gone... quickly though, she caught herself and shook her head, lowering her head back to the paperwork in front of her. Spying her phone just off to her right, she impulsively picked it up, and dialled a number only programmed into it the day before.

"Officer Frost? It's Dr Isles... yes, I was wondering if I could get your help again please. Thank you."

She wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do, but it was the only thing she could think of right now.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Hey, what's up doc?" Frost called, walking in with a jovial smile on his face, and as always, Maura glanced at him, wondering what the joke was, if there was one at all. Perhaps it was just her imagination.

"Officer Frost, I was wondering if you could assist me in something," Maura said formally, then carefully glanced around behind her, mindful of Frost watching her every movement curiously. "Please, follow me." She stepped away from the table of forensic evidence, noting as she did the way that Officer Frost stared at the blood splattered clothing with a rapidly paling face. "Officer? Are you alright?"

Frost snapped his gaze to hers with some difficulty. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine, Doctor Isles."

Maura remained silent and still, looking between the bloody clothes and Frost, who was steadfastly avoiding looking in that direction, and Maura felt a sudden clarity. With that understanding, however, came confusion. "I thought you wanted to work in the homicide department?" she asked frankly, before quickly biting her lip. "I mean... I'm assuming that's the problem behind your decided lack of blood flow at present, as you were looking at the clothes and..."

"I throw up," Frost blurted, and Maura stared at him in confusion. "I... I _vomit_," he corrected himself of the childish phrase, "when I get around dead bodies. That..." he gestured vaguely in the direction of the evidence, "that's not too bad. I simply feel a little light headed. But..." he stopped and frowned down at his shoes. Hesitantly, Maura reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, paying careful mind to his reaction so that she could remove it immediately if it was deemed unwanted. Instead, however, Frost smiled up at her gratefully. "I mean," he continued, almost blurting the words out now as though desperate to get them out, "I do want to work in homicide. I _do_. But... how can I do it if I can't get over this phobia?"

Maura bit her lip. "I... I can help you, if you like?"

Frost looked up, eyes wide. "Help?" he asked, sounding hopeful. "How?"

Maura nibbled at her lip again before releasing it to answer him. "Immersion therapy."

"What's that?"

"It's..." Maura sighed, beginning to walk towards her office, mindful of Frost following her almost instantly, "...well, it's a psychological technique that allows a person to gradually overcome fears, phobias or anxiety." She took a deep breath, feeling nervous now, and began employing the relaxation exercise that had helped her so often in the past. "It's a long process, and... it can be very difficult. But if it's important to you..."

"It is," Frost said hastily, and followed Maura through the doorway into her office, shutting the door at her nod. "Can I ask..." he began hesitantly, and Maura looked up at him nervously, "did _you_ ever use immersion therapy for anything?"

Maura looked down in the pretence of watching her feet as she stepped behind her desk. "Yes."

"What..." Frost bit himself off. Maura steeled herself and peeked up curiously, but when the only emotions she could see on his face were frank curiousity and genuine embarrassment (was he worried he had gone too far, she wondered?), she felt herself relax.

"People. I was always scared... of people."

Frost frowned. "Is... is that why you..." he trailed off, seeming unsure of how to finish the sentence. Maura took pity on him.

"Yes. It's why I chose to work with dead people." Sighing softly, she murmured, "The dead ones can't hurt me."

There was a silence in the room for several long seconds before Frost spoke up, his tone oddly cheery given their prior discussion. Maura smiled, grateful for the distraction. "So, Doc... what do you want me to do?"

Maura reached under her desk and pulled out her personal laptop.

Frost watched her with a look of wariness on his face. "Something you don't want BPD knowing about," he guessed shrewdly, and Maura flushed.

"It... it's just..."

Frost let out a snort and held out his hand, curling his fingers in a 'give it here' gesture. Maura handed the laptop over, watching silently as he sat down on her couch – dragging her coffee table a little closer in the process – took it out of its case and turned it on, placing it on the table along with the cordless mouse. This done, he looked up at her expectantly.

Maura gulped. This was going to be the hard part.

"Okay..." she began slowly, "you are, of course, aware of the case that Jane – Detective Rizzoli – is working on, correct?"

"Yes, of course," Frost said slowly, his eyes narrowing at her slightly.

"And you're aware, based on my findings, that I believe the killer to be someone who's had some medical training?"

"Yes..."

Maura breathed in deeply. "Studies suggest that most serial killers do not just start randomly..."

"Yeah, they begin on animals and stuff. Jane told me."

"Right..." Maura began pacing. "So... based on the evidence and studies – proven, verified fact – I believe that our killer is someone who commenced medical school, but did not complete it."

"You think he was thrown out," Frost finished, and he took a sharp breath in, breathing it out slowly. "I don't know, Doc. That's a pretty huge leap."

"Please," Maura said desperately, "Call me Maura."

"Maura," he agreed readily, then stared at her beadily for several beats.

"Can you help?" she finally blurted out, and Frost sighed.

"I'm guessing Jane's been through all the legal channels..." he looked at Maura's laptop and cracked his knuckles as he thought deeply. "Okay," he finally said, and Maura let out a breath. "I'll try. I'll be breaking a few laws... but I'll try. Give me half an hour?"

Maura nodded, wringing her hands anxiously, barely aware of the movements. "Right. Okay. Certainly, that's... thank you." She turned to leave, then quickly spun back around to look at him once more. "I'm sure you're aware that I'd like to keep this quiet..."

Frost smiled at her. "Yeah. Don't worry Doc. It's my ass on the chopping line too." Maura let out a breath of relief and turned to leave once more, but Frost's voice called her back. "One quick question though... what do we tell Jane?"

Maura bit her lip. "Nothing, unless we find something worth mentioning. Otherwise... what she doesn't know..."

Frost grinned and winked. "Gotcha."

As Maura left her office, she wondered why she was taking so many risks for a woman she didn't even know all that well.

_To solve the case_, she told herself resolutely. _That's all._

_Not for Jane. Not really._

_Really._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Maura?"

The soft call roused Maura out of her focus induced haze, and she looked around, for a moment having difficulty placing the voice and where it was coming from. When the call came again, however, she jumped and pulled her glove off rapidly, walking towards her office as her heart beat an excited rhythm in her chest.

"Yes?"

Frost looked up, his eyes wide and a slight sheen of sweat across his brow. It had been 45 minutes since Maura had left the room, she now realized, and she wondered if it had taken him that long to... break? Crack?... his way into the private student files. "Well," Frost said, wiping the back of his hand across his brow, "I swear that BCU campus has better online security than the White House... but I'm in. Do you want to...?" He moved over slightly on the couch and Maura took the unspoken invitation, sitting down and nervously blotting her palms on the bare skin of her knees.

"Alright... I've just got to..." Frost keyed in a few more strokes of the keyboard, and both he and Maura looked wide eyed at the results on the screen. "Wow," Frost finally said. "That's a lot of students."

Maura shook her head. "We have to find him. Otherwise, if he follows the same pattern that he has previously, later on today I'll be doing an autopsy on an abused and tormented woman, who suffered one of the worst deaths imaginable."

Frost looked at her for a brief moment before swallowing heavily. "Right. Okay... let me just... I'm gonna put in some key words, and it will eliminate everyone who does not have at least one of those words in their student records."

"Such as?"

Frost shrugged. "Disturbing, death fascination... things like that."

"Right." Maura watched interestedly as Frost pulled up a search engine seemingly out of nowhere (had that been on Maura's laptop before, she wondered?), typed in about a dozen words, and hit enter.

"It might take a while," Frost said quietly. "While your laptop is pretty sweet, it's not really designed for this use."

Maura wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Sweet?"

"Oh, uh..." Frost scratched his head, "I mean that it's of excellent quality."

"Oh. I... thank you."

Frost shrugged awkwardly. "No problem."

Maura watched as student records flitted up on the screen, most only staying there long enough for her to read an occasional word.

"I've gone back ten years," explained Frost, after a awkward silence. "That way, there's a higher chance..."

"Of this guy being there," Maura finished, nodding absently. Neither mentioned the very real possibility that he had not attended BCU... both simply hoped for the best. After another silence, and both of them staring at the flickering screen for nothing better to do, both Frost and Maura began to speak at the same time.

"You know, you don't have to..." Frost began, as Maura said,

"Officer Frost, I've been wondering..."

They stopped and looked at each other, then laughed. "You can go first," Frost said generously and Maura smiled.

"Thank you. I... I was just wondering..." she looked down at her lap, her question that had first seemed so innocent now seeming unforgivably intrusive, "I..." she shook her head. "Never mind."

Frost frowned. "Are you sure? You know you can ask me... I promise not to go all ghetto on yo' ass." His eyes widened and he coughed. "Oh shit. I mean... sorry Maura. I, uh... I won't be offended, is what I meant."

Maura smiled, then bit her lip. "I was just... you and Jane." She waited until Frost nodded slowly before continuing, "You're... you're friends?"

Frost smiled. "Best friends. Since we were... oh, about 5, I think. What made you realize?"

Maura reached over to the coffee table, to the tissue box that was sitting just out of reach. She pulled a tissue out and absently started shredding it. "I... I'm not sure. The way she spoke about you this morning, perhaps. She said you're a good kid."

"Ha!" Frost laughed. "God, she's one month older than me and she's lorded it over me all my life. Good kid indeed." He looked at her suddenly, shrewdly. "Why are you asking?"

Maura hesitated. Why _was_ she asking? "I... I just..." she sighed and shook her head. "Jane is such an interesting person. I... I don't really make friends easily, but she seems to enjoy my company. It's just... it's not a feeling I'm accustomed to."

"What, someone enjoying your company?"

Maura bit her lip again. She was going to need to reapply her lipstick very shortly, be it the long staying brand or not. "Yes."

Frost snorted. "Whatever. I enjoy your company."

"You have censored your natural impulses and natural speech more than once, Officer," Maura pointed out, and Frost looked chastised.

"Yeah, but... I don't want to offend you, Doc. You're a really sweet, beautiful woman. You deserve to be treated well." His cheeks flushed a deep ruby red, visible even through his beautiful dark skin. Maura laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, sad about needing to let him down but not wanting him to have false raised hopes.

"I'm gay, Officer."

Frost's eyes widened slightly before he smiled ruefully. "Yeah. I thought you might be."

"Why's that?"

He laughed. "Every woman I get a crush on is gay, it seems."

"Like Jane?"

There was a brief silence while Maura finished shredding her tissue and reached for another one. "Jane told you that she's gay?"

"Yes." She looked down at her lap. "Oh..." Frost hurriedly got up and got her paper wastebasket, allowing her to sweep the remnants of tissue (as well as the new, almost whole one) into the basket. Maura laughed nervously. "Sorry. I'm... I don't usually fidget."

"It's okay." Frost turned to look at the computer but only seconds later, swivelled his head to look at her. "Do you like Jane?"

Maura wished she still had a tissue in her hands. "She's... she's a lovely person..."

"Hmm..." Frost said, and stared at the computer again, murmuring absently, "Well, unless you're the mysterious present-day Grace, I don't think you'll have much of a chance."

Inexplicably, Maura's heart sped up. "If I was... what was it that you said?"

Frost cursed softly. "Nothing. Sorry, I didn't mean... I mean, nothing. I said nothing."

"Who is Grace?"

Frost narrowed his eyes at her. "No one."

Feeling uncommonly relentless, Maura pursued the topic. "What did you mean by 'present-day'?"

Frost sighed in exasperation. "Look... it's nothing, really. Grace and Beatie were just... relatives... of Jane's. They had a really good bond. Jane always related to Beatie, and said she needed to find her own Grace. That's all."

Maura watched him closely as his talked, noting the micro-expressions that told her that he wasn't lying... but he wasn't exactly telling the truth either, and then his words hit her.

_Grace. Beatie._

_Maura had had an imaginary friend at the age of 5, whose name she could never remember... but now she knew. Her name was Beatie._

_And she wasn't really imaginary, was she?_

"Maura? The results are in."

Maura shook her head. "Right."

_How can this be possible?_

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY TWO_**

_Don't get too excited. We've still got a bit to go... a few more discoveries to make. Plus, it's Maura. Do you really think she's going to accept this very easily?_

_As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Love to all, -Katie xoxo_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

"So... um, Maura? Maura?"

Jane stared at Maura, her gaze furrowing in consternation, finally clicking her fingers in front of the other woman's face. And, as she had been doing ever since Jane had come back from her fruitless search for judges, Maura startled abruptly before turning, a look on her face that Jane could not quite decipher.

Jane frowned again. "Are you okay?"

"I..." Maura looked up at her again, her expression somehow... confused?... before shaking her head and looking down. "Physically, and as far as I can tell, I'm perfectly fine."

"Uh huh." Jane looked around the room and winced slightly before lowering herself into Maura's insanely uncomfortable Carrot Radish (what had she said?) chair. "And mentally?"

Maura's eyes drifted off to the right slightly. "My brain functions are also working adequately, as far as I can tell."

Jane couldn't help it: she laughed. Maura looked somewhat offended.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jane replied with a small snort. "You are just very sneaky for a woman who can't actually lie."

Maura flushed and opened her mouth, but didn't seem to know what to say, as she closed it scant seconds later. Jane laughed again.

"It's all right; you don't have to share right now. As long as it's not bad..." she trailed off, waiting for Maura to shake her head that no, it was not bad, (which she did firmly) "then I'm okay with not knowing."

"No, it's not bad," Maura confirmed her head movement, speaking hesitantly and in such a soft voice that Jane was inclined to lean closer to hear better, "It's just..." she shrugged helplessly, "confusing."

Jane snorted. "Talk about confusing. I feel like I'm so focused on work right now that everything else is just going through one ear and out the other." She blinked. "Did I even eat breakfast this morning?"

"Yes," Maura replied instantly. "I saw you down in the cafe this morning. You had what appeared to be a donut in one hand, and you were taking bites out of it."

Jane looked up at Maura, but couldn't keep her look of wonder that Maura paid attention to her habits on her face, because of the look of disgust that greeted her. "What? Donuts are delicious."

Maura sighed. "Not only do they have no nutritional content whatsoever, they also pander to a stereotype that is cruel and untrue... at least in your case."

Jane frowned before throwing her head back and laughing. "You saying I don't fit the stereotype of the donut-eating, fat cop that likes to sit on their wide ass?"

Maura looked bewildered, like she could not understand for the life of her why Jane was laughing. "Yes. You are dedicated, hard working, and your posterior is certainly not wide. It is, in fact, quite lo..." She bit herself off abruptly, and Jane grinned.

"Yes?"

Maura swallowed visibly. "So what areas do you feel you are lacking concentration in?"

Jane snorted again. "Nice subject change." She waited until Maura flushed guiltily before continuing, a fond smile on her face. "I don't know. Just... things. Things I'm looking for, you know?"

"People?" Maura asked softly, and Jane looked at her shrewdly.

"Yeah," she finally decided to reply, her tone somewhat abrupt. "I guess you could say that."

Maura seemed like she was going to say something and Jane waited, but she shut her mouth again quickly. Jane stared at her for a few moments. Here, after all, was an incredibly smart woman... and yes, Jane needed to focus on the case, but surely it would not hurt to ask...

"What's an encycle?" Jane blurted out.

"A... I'm sorry?" Maura blinked, looking completely bewildered.

"Encycle. Is it a type of bicycle... has it maybe only got one wheel, or..."

"That would be a unicycle."

"Right," Jane frowned.

"Encycle..." Maura continued, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I can only think of one word, or variants of that word, that begin with 'encycle', and that's encyclopaedia." She hesitated, looking at Jane curiously, then added, "I can look it up for you to ensure there are not words that I'm forgetting...?"

"No," Jane shook her head forcefully. "No, it's nothing anyway. And I need to focus on this case, not my own issues."

Maura blinked at her slowly but acquiesced readily enough. "Certainly. What did you want to ask me or tell me before, when I was in a period of short-term detachment from my immediate surroundings?"

"What?"

"I... when I was daydreaming."

"Right," Jane replied. "Um..." she rubbed at her eyes, bullying her tired brain into concentrating once more. "I wanted to know more about the DNA process. I mean... is every person in Boston on our system?"

Maura opened her mouth to reply but shut it again, her expression confused. "You don't know this already?" she finally asked.

Jane shrugged one shoulder and let her gaze fall to the floor. "I'm a newbie, remember?" She spoke the words softly, not wanting to remind Maura of her amateur status but not seeing any way around it.

"Yes, but..." Maura hesitated briefly before plunging ahead, "Detective Korsak?"

Jane shrugged again, feeling incredibly awkward as she shoved her hands inside her pocket and leaned back against the chair. She quickly sat up again though... that chair was _hard_. "I... I don't know. I don't know if he's testing me, or..." she shrugged helplessly. "I just feel like I can't talk to him much. Like he thinks..." she let out a frustrated breath, "like he thinks I'm not tough enough for this job, just because I'm a woman."

"You don't know that he thinks that," Maura said reasonably. "This could be the way he greets all new people. He wants to ensure they... know what they're up against."

"Did he treat you that way?"

Maura bit her lip. "No."

"Of course." Jane looked away, frustrated. "Look, it's just..." she brought her gaze back to Maura's with what seemed to be a gargantuan effort, "I feel like... like he's testing me in a way. And I don't," she dropped her gaze again, unable to handle Maura's understanding eyes, "I don't want to be found wanting. I need to prove myself to him, and I can't do that by asking him stupid questions."

"It's not a stupid question, Jane."

Jane snorted and shook her head, but didn't say anything. Maura waited several beats before seeming to decide that Jane was not going to say anything further.

"Most people with DNA on our system are there for a specific reason... either they are criminals, part of the police force, part of some branch of the military, or organ donors/recipients. So, no... not every person in Boston is on our system."

"So... having his DNA is effectively useless?" Jane threw herself backwards. "Ouch! This stupid carrot radish chair..."

Maura smiled fondly. "_Karim Rashid._ And stop sitting there if you don't like it."

"The couch is too far away," Jane said matter of factly, as though there was no point to further discussion and Maura seemed to agree, simply shaking her head. "So... it's useless?" Jane prompted after a few silent seconds.

"Well... no. It shouldn't have been," Maura said, standing up. "When you attend BCU to study to become a doctor, they ask that you give a blood or DNA sample for insurance purposes."

"That's morbid."

Maura shook her head. "No, it's really quite practical. Anyway, although it is not a legal requirement, approximately 98% of students do it simply because it makes sense." At Jane's blank look, Maura continued, "Most hospitals and..." she gestured around at her surroundings, "morgues require a DNA sample anyway, simply in case of lab errors."

Jane stared at Maura, wondering why she was still standing up. "Right. And that means... what, our asshole is in the 2%? Or he managed to somehow wipe his DNA off the system? Unless, of course," she added in a mutter, "the DNA things are in the part of the student records that are locked away."

"Yes they are, but he still doesn't show up there."

As the words registered, Jane sat up, watching as Maura's face rapidly turned a deep pink. "Maura?"

Maura blinked owlishly.

"Maura."

"Frost helped me!" she blurted quickly, before looking down at her feet and adding shamefully, "Mainly because I asked him to."

"Right," Jane said, feeling amused but she also felt rather like she should not be encouraging such behaviour. "And..."

Maura bit her lip and stared at Jane for long moments before turning around, the reason for her standing up becoming clear when she grabbed a stack of files off the top of her filing cabinet. She seemed to be steeling herself for turning around again, and when she finally did, Jane couldn't help but laugh at her expression of guilt.

"Maura, it's _okay_. You're trying to catch a bad guy!"

"But it's _illegal!_" Maura exclaimed anxiously, and Jane watched curiously as faint red spots began appearing on her chest. "I've never done anything illegal before!"

Jane blinked. "What, really? Not even downloaded a song off the internet to put on your iPod?"

"No," Maura replied, rubbing her hands down her pants quickly and anxiously. "I always paid the appropriate money to download songs through legal channels." She hesitated briefly before asking, "Do people go to jail for hacking?"

Jane smiled in amusement. "Yes. But I promise I will keep you safe."

"You will?" Again, that look that Jane couldn't quite identify flitted across Maura's face, but before she could do more than acknowledge its presence, the look was gone. Jane blinked.

"Of course I will," she said, somewhat hesitantly, then added more firmly, "After all, we're friends now, right?"

Maura looked at Jane, and this time, Jane had no trouble identifying the emotion that flooded Maura's every feature. It was hope. "We are?"

Jane stared at her for a moment before replying, trying to puzzle her out. Maura was, undeniably, brilliant, if a little quirky. And Jane hadn't really had all that much to do with her but (aside from the times they were arguing), she actually genuinely liked Maura. Sure, they probably needed to spend more time together outside of work – or, indeed, any time at all – to be classed as actual, proper friends, but if being told that she had a friend made Maura happy... "Really, Googlemouth? Of course we are." She barely refrained from adding a 'duh', as she felt it would have been overkill, but she watched as Maura's face slowly grew pinker, her lips curving up in a small smile, the red spots on her chest fading... and Jane felt somehow satisfied.

"So... Jane said, after a brief period of silence, "what's with the..." she gestured at the files. Maura looked down and jumped slightly, apparently having forgotten that she was holding them, and hurriedly sat down at her desk again. She folded her hands over the files and stared at Jane for a few seconds. Jane stared back. "Oka-a-ay..."

Maura took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, speaking quickly, "I asked Officer Frost to see if he could hack into the schools sealed records. He did, and he performed some kind of search that only allowed students through that had specific words on their records..."

"A word specific search, right."

Maura blinked before continuing. "Yes. So he did that, and it... well," she said, looking somewhat upset, "it actually came back with a larger number than I was expecting, which is disturbing... anyway, after that, Officer Frost did a DNA search and when that came back as negative, he deleted all students that had their DNA on file. This is what was left." She looked up at Jane with an oddly eager expression on her face, and Jane couldn't help but share her glee.

Unfortunately, the moment only lasted a short time. "Yes..." she replied, looking at the documents, "but we're basing a lot on assumptions here, aren't we? Who's to say we're not wasting our time?"

Maura looked down at the files, then picked them up and held them out, an expectant expression on her face. "You still have to try."

Jane slowly reached out to take them, and sighed. Yes, she _did_ have to try, didn't she? She just hoped this asshole would keep Catherine alive long enough for them to flush him out.

With that, though, Jane had a thought. "Why would this guy not give DNA? I mean, surely that would be enough to raise some sort of suspicion..."

Maura shook her head. "No. Not really. All he'd have to do is claim religious reasons, and they would not ask anything further."

Jane looked down. "Right." She shook her head in unconscious mimic of Maura's action, then sighed. "Sometimes, doesn't it just feel like the maniacs out there use religion to hide their twisted selves behind?"

"Too often," Maura agreed sadly, and Jane looked down at the files in her hands. Well, she decided firmly, if this _was_ this asshole's excuse, she was going to flush him out.

With a newfound energy, Jane took the files and almost sprinted out the door, shouting a hasty goodbye over her shoulder to Maura.

She was going to find him. She was going to save Catherine. No matter what.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"What are you doing? Jane? Jane!"

By the second calling of her name, Jane finally registered that there was someone speaking to her and looked up hazily. Korsak was frowning at her.

"What?" Jane asked.

"I asked what you were doing," Korsak asked, and gestured to the files. "Is this pertaining to the case?"

Jane looked at him warily. "Yes." When Korsak seemed to be awaiting further information, she sighed and sat back in her chair. "They're student files from BCU. There's..." she checked again, even though she'd looked them all over briefly once already, "three that stood out."

"You picked three at random?"

"No," Jane said, gnawing at her lip for a second before sitting up and adding confidently, "I got a tip from a C.I."

Korsak looked at her with a vague look of distrust on his face. "You _have_ a C.I.?"

"Yes." It wasn't exactly a lie, Jane thought uncomfortably. After all, Maura (helped by Frost) had given her the information... and she would certainly prefer to be kept confidential... "Yes, I do." She didn't like the tone of disbelief in his voice, but he was her partner, so when he turned to go back to his desk, she called out to him.

"Yes?" he asked, raising his eyebrow in curiousity.

"I thought," Jane replied, keeping her tone of voice deliberately even and calm, "that you might like to help me with these files?"

He just looked at her for a long second. "You only have three, Jane. I think you'll be okay. I'll be pursuing other leads while you do that." _Leads that might actually get us something_, Jane heard the unspoken words clearly through his body language, and bristled, looking back down at her paperwork quickly.

It was time to go hunting.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"I think I've found him..." Jane whispered. Her attention had been focused on the third file for the past half an hour, and now she was almost quivering in excitement. Could it really be this easy?

Of course, finding out who the guy was and having him in custody were two very different things... but Jane was determined to take what she could get.

"Korsak?" she said, raising her voice, and he looked at her somewhat impatiently. "I think I found him!"

"Are you sure?"

"Well... no..." Jane admitted reluctantly, "but I think it's worth going to see him."

Korsak sighed. "Or we could waste an afternoon. What makes you think he has anything to do with it?"

Jane stared down at the file in her hand helplessly. Truthfully, she _didn't _have much. At all. It was a lot of guesswork and some illegal hacking... but she could not deny the feeling in her gut. The feeling that said that this was it... this guy was the one. Or, she thought uncertainly, he would at least be _a_ one. There was no way that he was completely innocent. Not after what she had read in his file.

"Okay," she said forcefully, determined to redirect Korsak's attention to what she _did_ have, "Listen to this: _Charles Hoyt is a brilliant medical student, with an exceptional mind for recalling facts and figures..._ Maura said that serial killers tend to fall either side of the intelligence spectrum. They are either stupid, or have intelligence like Maura's."

Korsak grinned. "Please don't tell me you think Maura is a serial killer."

"No." Jane glared. "Okay... then we go on a bit... _Charles Hoyt does not appear to be socially interactive, but performs well on all examinations."_

"He's studying to become a doctor. Hardly time to party."

Jane looked down at the paperwork once more, but found her hand was shaking too much to read any more. "I want to interview him."

Korsak let out a breath. "Detective Rizzoli... Jane... I get it. I want to catch this guy as badly as you do. But we can't afford to waste our time going around on wild goose chases. Now..." he gestured back at the computer, "I'm busy looking up doctors and orderlies in our local hospitals. Why don't you do the same?"

Jane smacked the front of the folder. "But there's more. He... he handled a corpse inappropriately, and... and Maura said that she didn't think he would have completed medical school!"

Korsak headed back to his desk and lowered himself into his chair. "Yes. And that's a theory. It is our job," he gestured between the two of them, "to sort out the theories and prove them."

"Catherine Cordell is probably dying right now," Jane tried again, "and this asshole is probably..."

Korsak's lips tightened to the point where they became white, and he looked truly ferocious. Jane stared. "Yes! And this asshole is probably enjoying himself to the fullest extent which is why. We need. To catch him. We don't need to be running around everywhere chasing leads that have no real evidence behind them! Because you don't have evidence, do you?" He waited, but Jane remained silent, her eyes narrowing. "No," he continued. "You don't. So, are you going to work?"

Jane stared at him, her chest heaving. "Yes." She snatched her laptop out of the drawer. "Down in the morgue."

"Of course. Say hi to Maura for me," Korsak called out, and as she left, she clearly heard him add, "At least _she's_ not as hormonal as you." Hearing Crowe's derisive laugh in response, Jane sped up.

She just needed to get to Maura. She'd understand.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Maura, I found him. I'm going."

Maura stood up, looking anxious. "He was one of the...?"

"Yes."

"Well... wait! Don't you..." Jane looked back at her impatiently. Maura looked uncomfortable. "I thought you needed backup."

Jane stared at her for a long moment before replying. "Yeah. Well, apparently not this time." To hopefully appease the look of abject terror on Maura's face, Jane stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be okay."

_And Catherine will be too._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_Beatie looked around and Jane mimicked her movements, feeling frustrated. This was different._**

**_"_****_Am I still in Heaven?"_**

**_The voice replied, sounding amused._**** "****It is as I said. There are many Heavens. This is another one."**

**_"_****_Okay..." Beatie looked around. Jane shook her head. She didn't have time for this. It was odd, though, she thought absently. Every time before she had been 'present' in a flashback, it had appeared in her sleep. Now she was there when she was awake too?_**

**_And the flashbacks had been getting more frequent lately, though Jane had to admit to barely remembering them. She simply had too much to focus on in her real life. Far too often lately, though she had yet to realize it, she had begun distinguishing the two not by calling it her past and present lives, as she had always done... but by her 'real' and her 'other' life. It was not a huge change... but significant all the same._**

**_"_****... will become a safe Haven for you,"****_that strange, otherworldly voice said, and Jane shook herself, realizing she had missed part of the conversation, "that you will not remember, but..."_**

"Oh shit!" Jane swore loudly and slammed her foot on the brakes as someone ran a red light in front of her. "Idiot," she muttered, continuing her drive towards Charles Hoyt's house. She resolved absently to think of the flashback later.

She forgot.

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY THREE_**

_I'm not sure about this chapter. I've had to relay a lot of information in it and I'm not sure I've done it well. Blah. *doubts self and whole story*_

_Don't worry. Still loving writing this story. Just having a writer moment. :-P_

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Love to all, -Katie xoxo


	24. Chapter 25

_*waves nervously* Hi everyone... remember me? Yeah. Well, stuff happened... I had insomnia for a while... I had breakdowns... didn't feel up to tackling this next part of the story. But I'm back now! So please don't hurt me for being away so long. I still love you all. And hopefully the quality of the story has not gone down in my absence._

**Chapter 24**

_Beatie. Grace. Beatie. __Beatie._ Maura shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair in an uncharacteristic display of frustration, squeezing her eyes shut. What did it all _mean?_ Surely it was a mere coincidence... but then, Maura wasn't sure that she even believed in coincidences. But then, she certainly believed in science, and science did not exactly support the theory of... of... _what?_

She couldn't concentrate. She couldn't think of things to calm her down, or things that would help her interpret the odd... _goings-on_... of recent, because she was thinking of Jane.

Jane, who seemed so inexorably and inexplicably tangled up in all of this in some way that Maura simply _could not understand._

Jane, who had treated her so poorly in the beginning, and again and again... but Maura had treated her poorly in return, hadn't she? In fact, she, Maura, had instigated many of the juvenile behaviours.

Jane, who had somehow still managed to work her way into Maura's life... had become an integral part of it even... and become the best friend that she had ever had.

Jane, who fit none of Maura's criteria for an ideal friend... but somehow was better than the ideal fantasy anyway.

Jane, who was, at that moment, on her way to a violent killer's house, without backup...

Maura stood up abruptly, her heart beating an abrupt staccato rhythm inside of her chest. How could she have let Jane go? Why didn't she argue harder, protest more... why didn't she insist on someone accompanying her... even Maura herself would have been better than _no one_...

"Dr Isles?"

The knock at the door startled Maura to the point where she jumped noticeably, pressing a hand to her chest, feeling the hard thumping of her heart as she turned to stare at her visitor.

"Officer Frost?"

"I... _shit, _Maura, are you okay?"

Maura had wavered on her feet, suddenly light headed and Frost leapt to her side, his dark eyes filled with concern as he gazed at her worriedly. She had kept her footing though, and waved off his comforting touch, her hand still pressed to her galloping heart. "Jane," she told him urgently, her eyes wide as she willed him to understand the words that she could not seem to express right now.

"What about Jane?" Frost asked, looking baffled, and Maura swallowed against the unwanted ball of emotion that was rising up in her throat.

"Jane. She... she went after the killer. By herself."

Frost swore loudly, running his hand over his shortly shorn hair. "Fuck," he said again. "Are you sure? Is _she_ sure?"

"She just came down her to tell me, and... she seemed reasonably certain..."

"Of course she is... _fuck._ And she's fucking amazing at her job, so it probably is the right guy..."

Maura stared helplessly, unsure as to what to do next.

"Come on. We gotta go find Korsak," Frost said after several eternally long seconds.

"Korsak? But... Jane...!"

Frost had grabbed her wrist and already started gently tugging her towards the stairs before she had even gotten the second word out. "Yeah, but we're gonna need more than just _me_ there, especially if he's already..." Frost stopped abruptly and Maura felt her hands and feet go cold. _If he's already killed Jane_... she heard, and an odd sort of rushing sound seemed to fill her ears. She hurried her step.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Wait, wait, wait... go over it again for me."

Maura fought the urge to ball her hands into fists in frustration. Vince Korsak had been so nice to her when she first started... _so_ nice... and here he was relaxing back in his chair while Maura and Frost tried to tell him about Jane, about what she was doing and what danger she was potentially (likely) in. He had his hands folded across his belly, his face smooth and calm... Maura felt the insane urge to do _something_ to gain his attention, like scream, or throw something.

She didn't like that feeling.

"She's gone after the killer," Frost said again, coolly and evenly. Even Frost's voice, Maura thought wildly, was far too calm for the situation... didn't he... they... realize how critical this was? Didn't they realize what danger Jane could be in?

Well, yes, Frost knew, didn't he? He had been panicked when she told him. But now he had to tell Korsak, and she supposed that keeping a cool head was necessary in getting him to pay attention, to realize the urgency of the situation. It was odd though, she thought, her mind swirling confusingly with emotion. It was odd that he was so against Jane being right... that he had made himself so emotionally unavailable to her when even Maura as a medical examiner knew that detectives had to be able to rely on each other... had to _trust_ each other.

"And, again, how do we know this guy is the killer?" Korsak asked for what felt like the hundredth time (but in reality was probably only the second time), his hands still folded on his stomach as he rocked himself gently in his chair. Maura felt something inside of her snap.

"She already told you, Detective Korsak. She already told you, and you didn't listen! We need to find her, so you need to get up and come with us. _Now._"

Korsak looked at her sharply, his eyes wide. He studied her for several eternally long seconds before finally getting up and grabbing his coat.

"Let's go."

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

_"__Why do you visit me?" Maura asked quietly, as she set up the dolls in her doll house carefully._

_"__Why _wouldn't_I visit you?" Beatie's voice, as usual, seems to come from right behind Maura, her breath floating over her shoulder. As always, Maura turns around to look, only to see an empty room._

_"__I don't know," Maura replies, disappointment apparent as she turned back to the doll house, her eyebrows drawn together worriedly. She didn't want to say what she was about to say, but she felt it necessary... surely Beatie would be much happier visiting another little girl somewhere? A little girl who had friends, who was not as strange as Maura... "I... I don't have friends."_

_"__You have me."_

_"__Yes, but you're not..." Maura hesitated briefly, the tiny baby doll held halfway to the house, its journey to its bed delayed for the moment while its owner thought deeply. Beatie was not... what was she not? _Real? _No, that didn't seem quite right. Maura glanced over her shoulder and, though she had heard no movement nor felt any breeze to indicate steps being taken, she now sensed that Beatie was sitting on the bed. The covers remained as perfectly wrinkle free as they had been five minutes ago, however, but still Maura could not shake her certainty._

_Okay, so if Beatie was real, what was she _not_, then? She was not..._

_"__You're not a _child,_" __Maura finally replied triumphantly. "You're a grown up."_

_"__You can't see me," Beatie replied, sounding amused, and sure enough, the voice now emanated from the general direction of the bed. "How do you know if I'm a kid or not?"_

_"__You _sound_like a grown up," Maura replied, nodding her head emphatically to prove her own point. "Plus," she added, certainty further colouring her voice, "you're _inbisible._"_

_"__I'm... what?"_

_Maura frowned, unsure why Beatie sounded even more amused now. "You're _inbisible._That means I can't see you." She swung around to face the bed, yet again to prove her own point. "See? I can't see you. You're there but not there. You're inbisible."_

_"'__Invisible', sweetie. The word is 'invisible'." Beatie's voice was soft and patient, if laced with amusement, and Maura flushed with embarrassment._

_"__Oh."_

_"__It's okay. I used to mispronounce lots of words as a kid."_

_Maura stood up slowly, leaving the long forgotten baby doll on the floor as she pushed up off the ground, staring at the bed that only looked empty. She bit her lip hard._

_"__What is it, sweetie?"_

_Maura gnawed on her lip for only a second longer before blurting out, "Are you 'maginary?" Catching herself, she quickly corrected, "Eeeee-maginary."_

_Amusement all gone from her voice, Beatie replied gently, "What do you think?"_

_"__No. I don't think so."_

_"__Do you think I'm real?"_

_Again, Maura bit her lip, but her answer came to her mind unhesitatingly. "Yes," she said softly after a few seconds. "But I don't know."_

_"__You don't know what?"_

_"__Are you... are you a ghost?"_

_There was a brief silence after the question. Maura's heart sped up and she wrung her hands nervously, feeling the urge to hide under her covers. But no, that was silly... Beatie had been her friend for almost a year now. She must be a _friendly_ghost, if she was one at all... surely she must be._

_"__I... I don't know how to tell you what I am," Beatie finally said. "I guess I'm a ghost of sorts. But I'm alive as well, in another body."_

_"__Are you... are you a grown up, in your other body? Is your name Beatie there?"_

_Maura could almost hear Beatie smile fondly. "No to both questions, and I think that's enough for n..."_

_"__How did you die?" Maura blurted out, then covered her hands over her mouth in horror. "I'm sowwy, I'm sowwy," she said hurriedly, reverting back to her baby speak in her sudden overwhelming dear. "Please don't go away. I mean, you can... but I don't want you to. I'm sowwy, weally I am!"_

_There was a deep thoughtful silence for a few moments while Maura gasped shallowly, trying not to cry. "I was sick, and my friend could not make me better," Beatie finally replied._

_"__Your... your fw... _friend_?" Maura asked, her breathing still shallow but her heartbeat slowing down as she realized Beatie was not angry. Silently, she berated herself for not speaking properly, even in her fear. Her mother had gotten angry about her speech before... she mustn't forget again. _

_There was a deep sigh. "My... my wife. I mean, not legally, but we would have if..." she stopped abruptly, and Maura blinked, not sure if she understood._

_"__You loved a girl?"_

_"__...Yes."_

_Maura frowned deeply. "Oh." She clasped her hands together in front of her, nervously rubbing her thumb over the back of her left hand as things ticked over in her mind rapidly. Images began to form in her head, so quickly she almost couldn't make sense of them... and yet... she could. She knew what they were. Hadn't she always known? She had just... forgotten... "And... and how did... how did..."_

_Beatie's voice was suddenly nervous... excited nervous or scared nervous, Maura could not tell. "How did what?"_

_"__How did..." Maura shook her head. It was hard, she thought wildly. She was only a child, and yet... and yet... she hadn't always been, had she?_

_An old memory surfaced in her mind... of Grandmother Isles – that dear, sweet old woman that Maura had never really gotten to know, but who she remembered fondly anyway. She had said Maura had been here before. She had said... Maura bit her lip, remembering._

***"You see, Maura..." Grandmother Isles bent down next to Maura's chair and looked at her intently, "your mother is new to this earth, and doesn't understand the possibilities it represents. But," she added slowly, narrowing her eyes and coming even closer to Maura, so that Maura felt obliged to pull her head backwards, "you are not new, are you? You've been here before, haven't you?"***

_Yes. Yes, she had been here before. She had been here with Beatie. "How did you find me again?" Maura finally blurted out._

_While she could not see it, she became aware that Beatie was smiling sadly, and then Maura understood. She was not supposed to remember. She was not supposed to question. That was a task for grown up Maura... and she, child Maura, would have to forget. Tears began slowly filling her eyes at the thought._

_"__You'll be going away soon, won't you?" she asked rapidly._

_A ghost of a hand just barely seemed to touch her hair gently. "Yes."_

_"__But you'll find me again?"_

_"__Always."_

_Maura looked down at the floor... at the dollhouse that had commanded so much of her attention previously, and now seemed so childish that she wondered how she could have ever loved it as much as she had._

_"__Don't worry. You will love it again," Beatie said softly. Maura did not question Beatie's awareness of her thoughts, simply reached across the bed to snag a pillow and cuddle it close to her chest. She wished she could hug Beatie but somehow, even in her mere 6 years of life, she recognised that hugging Beatie was for a past time, from a past life. She only had the future ahead of her now._

_"__Will I ever 'member this talk?" Maura asked softly, then bit her lip, silently berating herself. "_Re -_member."_

_"__Not until... you're ready."_

_"__Will I ever 'mem... remember you?"_

_Again there came that shiver-inducing sensation of a hand just barely smoothing down soft golden curls. "I don't think so. But I don't know."_

_"__I won't forget, I won't!" Maura cried angrily, tears finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks in a fury induced rush. "I won't forget you Beatie!"_

_"__My Grace... my saving Grace..." Beatie murmured, and Maura lay back on her bed, her arms still wrapped tightly around her pillow as she continued to shake her head resolutely. Beatie's voice was soft and soothing as she laid down next to Maura, touching her hair gently in much the way a mother would, wanting to soothe her young. "It's okay, Maura. I..." she hesitated briefly and Maura stared in the direction she _knew_her to be laying, staring so hard that her eyes began to ache, wondering why she could be so aware of some moves her beloved friend made and so completely unaware of others._

_"__Beatie?" she asked after several eternally long seconds._

_"__I'm here." Beatie sighed and Maura felt that disconcerting not-quite-there sensation on her forehead... a gentle kiss. "Go to sleep Maura. I will visit you again tomorrow."_

_As soon as Beatie said the word 'sleep', Maura eyelids began to grow heavy, but she still found it within herself to tell Beatie, "Tomorrow is my 6__th__birthday!"_

_A sad sort of smile was present in Beatie's voice when she next spoke. "I know, Maura. I know."_

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Maura sat in her office and stared at her phone, her expression unchanging, but she could not stop berating herself internally. Jane was facing imminent danger... possibly death – Maura's heart sped up at the distinct possibility, but her gaze still did not waver from the silent phone on her desk – and all Maura could do was remember things from her childhood. Things that she wasn't even entirely convinced were real...

Maura was, of course, all too aware about repressed memories, and the science behind the theory of past lives. The only problem was that despite having all that knowledge, it didn't help her to address how she felt... how to combat those memories that were now so clear in her mind's eye that they might have happened the day before.

Wishing yet again that she could have gone with Frost and Korsak out to the suspect's house, Maura propped her elbows on her desk and began massaging her head in an uncharacteristic display of stress.

_Please be okay, Jane... please... I only just found you again..._

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR_**

_As always, I'd love to hear what you think, but thank you just for reading! Also a huge, HUGE thank you to the person/s who nominated this story for a Rizzles Fan Award. It's always been a secret wish of mine to get nominated so it's a huge honour. I highly doubt I'll win against the massively talented and popular authors I'm up against, but it has delighted me no end to just be nominated, so thank you once again.  
Love to all, Katie xoxo_


	25. Chapter 25 (the real chap 25)

_So I've had a couple of not-so-nice anonymous reviews basically abusing me because I haven't updated in a while (I have deleted them now). To those anonymous reviewers: please remember I do not do this for money, nor do I do it because I need to... not to mention the fact that I do have a fulltime job plus other responsibilities to take up my time, so do me a favour and try to not be such fucking assholes next time, okay? While I enjoy writing, sharing my work is still incredibly scary sometimes, and people like you do not make it easier. Thanks._

_Okay, about this chapter... I'm gonna put a trigger warning here, because I briefly touch upon child abuse and murder of a child. So... just so you know._

_Oh! And just so you guys know, I deleted my 'note' chapter, **so for anyone having trouble accessing chapter 24 **(which is accidentally labelled 25 on ff... whoops),_

Chapter 25

The most surprising thing, Jane mused as she coasted the car to a stop on the side of the street and pulled the handbrake on, was how plainly _ordinary_ the house was. She supposed that it wouldn't exactly be prudent for houses inhabited by evil people to have large skulls and crossbones painted on them... or a faint green mist hanging around (green always seeming to be associated with evil... an unfair association, Jane always thought, as she quite liked the colour), or a sign hanging out the front proclaiming its occupants malicious intents. No, that would not be advisable at all. Before she joined the force... while she was still in school, in fact... she had actually gone out and bought a police officer's autobiography, and one line in it had caught her attention: 'serial killers hide in plain sight'. It had simultaneously intrigued, confused and repulsed her. After all, surely there was some sign? There _had_ to be. People who committed atrocious acts simply _couldn't_ be normal to the outside world.

But – she took a breath, tightening the straps on her bullet proof vest as she did so, and opened the car door – there really was absolutely nothing abnormal about this house in front of her. The lawn was well-kept, the garden beds had perfectly trimmed rows of flowering bushes... and even the house itself was unremarkable. Except for, perhaps, the fact that everything had ever so slightly tipped over the line into _too_ perfect... this house was one you would pass on the street without a second glance.

And, Jane admitted reluctantly to herself as she shut and locked the car door behind her, the fact that she found the house a little too perfect was more likely to be her own determination to find _something_ wrong with it.

Because there had to be. This place was home to a monster.

Surveying the windows carefully for movement for what seemed like the hundredth time, Jane stepped forward towards the house, concentrating utterly on what she was doing. The guy... Hoyt... he was not aware that she was coming. He would have had no warning signals to tell him to be on guard... but still. Jane was alone in this. And she was determined to be careful, because what this man was capable of...

She shuddered, feeling goosebumps breaking out across her skin despite the hot sun beaming directly down on her.

She hadn't told Korsak everything. She hadn't even told Maura everything – though she was sure Maura had skimmed several files and could, at the very least, guess at Charles Hoyt's secrets.

Because the truth was, Charles Hoyt was, for lack of a better word, a monster. A monster in every sense of the word. Even if he was innocent – again, for lack of a better word – in this case, he was certainly not a good man by any stretch of the imagination. Jane couldn't help but shudder again as she remembered the contents of the file she had perused. Of course, it had all been phrased rather delicately... the paragraphs short and succinct, yet missing many specifics... but Jane was not the youngest person to make it into the homicide unit for nothing. She was intelligent, and could read between the lines – the reason he had been kicked out of medical school was simple... Charles Hoyt had been discovered in the classroom late at night, had broken into the refrigeration drawers where cadavers were kept, and had brought one out for his own twisted pleasure. Jane's gut turned at the thought... he had found the body of a young woman... mid 20s, and had been in the process of cutting off one of her breasts when he was found, his erection prominent through his thin scrubs. What was somehow even more sickening, she thought, was how he had managed to encourage people to come watch him... some of which did not have their arousal contained in such a fashion, but had whipped it out... their combined perversity a giant fuck you to the respect the dead deserved.

Yes, Hoyt was a monster, and worse yet, he was a monster who enjoyed an audience to his twisted affairs, which was a contributing factor to Jane's certainty of his guilt.

Still... it was rather disconcerting that Korsak had neglected to come with her... that his continued stubborn refusal to accept her because of... what? Her gender? Her age?... meant that she was facing this alone... Jane lifted her chin slightly as she continued on the path to the house ahead. Never mind. She would show him. He would be able to trust her, he would... she just needed to prove herself.

Jane could do that.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**It deserves repeating again: on earth, not much is truly known about the soul. Much is theorised on, much is debated about, but not much is truly known. True legends have filtered down through the years and altered slightly, whether by accident or design, and, while some of the original facts remain, many more are fabricated. Much of the stories in the world today are simply fanciful tales of romanticised notions.**

**The truth is that it's not as magical as one might think. And yet, at the same time, it is a million times more so.**

**Perhaps the explanation for this is not clear... if that is the case, I do beg your pardon. The soul separated from the body has a far clearer understanding than the soul that is weighted down by a mortal's worries and fears. Simply put: when a soul is in Heaven, they have no mind, therefore there is nothing prohibiting them from thinking. Perhaps that is confusing... but when you think about it, it really isn't all that confusing at all.**

**Perhaps a simple explanation is best... a soul has the chance to return to earth seven times in human form. They are also able to appear in other forms... but I digress. A soul is able to return to earth seven times precisely in a human vessel, and, as you can probably easily imagine, the chances for these souls to find their true mate even once in seven lifetimes is truly astronomical and beyond belief.**

**And yet... and yet. There is Maura and Jane. Maura and Jane, who have been on earth three times before, and have managed to find each other each time. There is no doubt that the first time was pure luck, but the second time, the third... _this_ time?**

**What can I say? There is a reason I remember them.**

**They are truly special.**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane circled around the house carefully, sticking to the shadows and moving as quietly and agilely as possible. She could not see movement in the house, but that didn't necessarily mean anything... she was going in without backup, and she was determined to take every precaution possible, despite every bone in her body seeming to scream at her to hurry, that Catherine Cordell's life was at stake.

The yard was perfectly trimmed, she noted almost absently as she laid her back flat against the side of the house, to the point where even the grass that laid smack up against the house was trimmed. It was odd, she mused, but then, that was beating a dead horse. She had already deduced the house was too perfect. If this guy was a killer, he wouldn't want to draw attention to himself by having a badly painted house or an overgrown lawn... shaking her head as though trying to shake away the distracting thoughts, Jane turned slowly, watching for movement on all sides as best she could, and peeked into the window carefully.

It was just like any other house inside, but Jane's heart didn't slow down its staccato beat. She was looking into the kitchen, and through the open doorway she could see what looked like part of a bedroom and... she twisted slightly... through the other door, she could see what looked like a lounge room. It all looked clear... no person, killer or not, in sight. Taking a deep breath, Jane stood up straight and headed for the front door, knocking sharply on the wood when she got there. The knock echoed hollowly, making Jane frown. "Charles Hoyt? Boston PD, my name is Detective Jane Rizzoli." Jane waited for a response, but none came. "Mr Hoyt? This is Boston PD." Jane swiftly pulled her gun back out of its holster and reached for the door handle, a part of her not at all surprised when it turned easily in her hand. She pushed the door open slowly as far as it would go, and swept the room quickly and carefully with both eye and gun. All remained still and silent.

Jane stepped inside.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_"What would you do if you _could_ be a police officer?"_**

**_"Grace..." Beatie's voice was soft but impatient, but the latter emotion faded quickly when she looked up at her partner. She shook her head. "I don't know. I'd do what all the other police officers do, I suppose."_**

**_"But what would you _like_ to do?"_**

**_Beatie was silent for long moments, looking at her plate, the meal that Grace had so carefully prepared already beginning to get cold. She poked at it with her fork absently._**

**_"Beatie?"_**

**_Beatie sighed. "I'd like to help people. Like..." she glanced up quickly, trying to assess the emotions of Grace's face, "like... you know how... how little Billy..." Grace's face immediately shut down, and she looked down at her hands. Beatie reached out to take her hand quickly, understanding all too well the pain that Grace was feeling... little Billy was all of 3 years old when he was found floating face down in the pond on their property, and Grace had been called for to try to save the child's life. It had been far too late, of course... Grace estimated he'd been there for at least 2 hours before anyone had noticed him missing... but, even despite the bloating that occurred naturally in drowning deaths, she couldn't help but notice the bruises that ringed his throat, the hand shaped marks on his arms and back, and she wondered._**

**_It seemed like the whole town had wondered, in fact, because it hadn't been the first time little Billy had been spotted with bruises. "Perhaps," Grace had even offered tentatively that night in bed, with the lights out and her bravery risen to the surface, "he [little Billy's father, Captain Gary Conners] got sick of merely beating the boy... and decided to get rid of him entirely." Beatie had reassured her that if that was the case, as the evidence seemed to suggest, then Captain Conners would go to jail._**

**_He never had. Captain Conners was good friends with the chief of police... and, as Grace had told Beatie with barely suppressed anger, a formal investigation was never even undertaken. Little Billy had died, and no one had cared._**

**_Beatie squeezed Grace's hand reassuringly, waiting until Grace gained enough control over herself to look back up before continuing. "...like how little Billy died," she continued slowly, silently ruminating on the fact that little Billy would never grow out of his nickname... he would truly be 'little' forever, "I... I'd like to help bring justice to him, you know? To his memory. He... he deserves that."_**

**_Grace looked at her silently for a few seconds. "And if you were friends with little Billy's father?"_**

**_Beatie's lips narrowed. "I'd still take him down."_**

**_Grace smiled widely, her eyes watering. "And that's precisely why I love you Elizabeth 'Beatie' Mills."_**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane couldn't put her finger on it, but the house was... odd. Having already swept it entirely, checking every cupboard and under the bed, and ascertaining that Charles Hoyt was not at home, Jane was now quietly exploring. Not entirely legal, she knew, but she didn't feel guilty... thinking of Catherine Cordell's picture, her blood splattered home and her dead husband shattered any possible guilt entirely.

It was hard to figure out what exactly got her hackles up about the house, just like it was hard to pinpoint precisely what was different about it from the outside. It was just... odd. Going into the living room, Jane stared at the couch. Brown and serviceable... and they looked brand new. Nothing too unusual about that... records had shown Jane that this was a fairly recently purchased property. Perhaps Hoyt had sprung for new furniture. But... Jane moved over to the couch, pulling on a glove as she did so, and pressed experimentally at the cushion. Even through the glove, she could feel the material was rough to the touch, and the cushion was not very soft. It was a cheap couch, for sure. Jane glanced over to the TV cabinet. A modest little TV sat on top of the display case, but Jane ignored that for now, opening up the cupboards instead.

Old movies. There because that was what Hoyt enjoyed... or there because they were a cheap way to fill the cupboard?

Jane moved to the kitchen. Nothing was out of place... which wasn't surprising, considering the impeccable state of his garden... but still, Jane felt that odd sense of wrongness. She opened up several drawers, but, seeing them filled with standard cutlery and utensils, slammed them shut again and stalked into the bedroom. It was darker in there, the one small window covered by an exterior black out blind. Jane tried turning the lever to bring the blind up but gave up when it turned freely in her hand with no feeling of weight behind it. Obviously, she thought absently, it was broken. She looked at the bed and frowned. Surely someone like Hoyt, with a perfect lawn and a perfectly kept house, would ensure to fix something that was broken as quickly as possible? Unless... he didn't actually use the blind, and therefore didn't know it was broken... perhaps because he didn't use this house at all.

Jane moved to the closet and flung the doors open. Three or four suits were hung up... but there was nothing else. Moving more quickly now, Jane crossed the room and opened the chest of drawers, pushing aside clothing impatiently. There was underwear, T-shirts and shorts there... but it wasn't right. It was too neat, too perfect... glancing up, Jane spied the light switch on the wall and impulsively flicked it to the 'on' position. The light didn't come on. She swore quietly under her breath, slamming the drawers shut again and moving to the kitchen, trying the lights in there. Nothing. So, even though it seemed to be a moot point at that stage, she moved to the living room and tried to turn the TV on.

It wasn't plugged in.

"Fuck!" Jane ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation. "Charles Hoyt... Catherine... where the hell are you?"

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Her phone was blinking furiously at her with notifications of missed calls and missed messages when she returned to the car but Jane ignored them, heading straight to the documents she had saved onto her phone. Typing in her password quickly, she opened the report she was looking for and scanned it quickly, finding the information after only seconds.

Charles Hoyt's original home address... the place he had lived as a child... was on sprawling acreage in the middle of nowhere. His parents were dead, so what better place to take his victims?

Jane turned the car on with a flick of the keys and revved the engine, flicking on her lights with only a moment's hesitation but deciding to forego the sirens for now.

"Hold on, Catherine. I'm coming," she whispered.

"I'm coming."

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE_**

_Okay, so this chapter terrifies me, as do the ones following so I'd love some feedback. But as always, thanks just for reading._

_Oh, and I did have a request that I try to cover all this Hoyt stuff in one chapter... I didn't feel right doing that. This needs to be drawn out, so as much as you guys will hate me for the cliffhangers, hang tight with me on this, okay? I promise I'll get us all through it._

_And I'll try to not leave it as long between updates this time too. :-) Lots of love, Katie xoxo_

_Oh, I don't know if voting is open for the Rizzles fan award thingies but if it is... maybe you could vote? Please? Don't feel like you have to though. I still love you. :-P_


	26. Chapter 26

_This chapter is shorter than the rest. The following chapters may be shorter as well... or at the very least, varying lengths. Just a heads up. :-D_

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"_What do you mean she isn't there?"_ Maura spoke into the phone through gritted teeth, her voice quiet and carefully controlled. "Have you been over the entire property? Is there any..." she lifted her hands as she searched her racing, frantic mind for the appropriate words, "any sort of underground lair, or..."

"No, Maura. There's not. She's not here."

Maura got up, unable to calm her frenetic energy anymore, and started pacing back and forth. "Then where is she?"

Silence on the phone. Maura brought a fist to her mouth and bit down on her finger hard... she could feel a ball of emotion rising in her chest and threatening to drown her, and she didn't want it to overwhelm her. She _couldn't_ let it overwhelm her... she had to be there for Jane.

Jane. _Beatie..._

Shaking the confusing thoughts away once more – as she was getting so good at – she continued to pace about her office. "Okay. Is there any hint about the place as to where she might be? As to where he might be?"

"No, Maura, it's..." Barry trailed off, and Maura stopped pacing abruptly, her narrowed gaze burning into her office chair as though it could give her the information she so desperately needed to know.

"What?" she asked angrily, when Barry was silent for far too long for her liking.

"It's like..." Barry sighed, "I think this is his staging area."

Maura blinked. "His what?"

A brief silence, then... "Do you... not know what a staging area is?" Barry's voice was soft, hesitant, and not at all judging, and Maura felt a wave of affection wash over her.

"Of course I do, it's a location where people or equipment are assembled before use, or as a practice..." she stopped as realization dawned. "That's not his real living space, is it?"

Barry sighed. "No. No, I don't think so. It's too... I don't know. Too perfect. Too pristine. It..." he chuckled slightly, nervously, "it kind of makes me nervous, actually."

Maura imagined him running his hand over the back of his neck sheepishly as he admitted that and half smiled until she remembered that that means that Jane... dear, wonderful Jane... was still M.I.A. She lost her smile instantly, her head feeling woozy and she pressed a hand to her eyes and concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly until the sensation of light headedness had passed. Faintly, she became aware of an increasingly concerned voice sounding in her ear.

"Maura? Maura! Are you okay? Maura!"

"I'm here," Maura said quietly. She sat down on her couch, still rubbing at her eyes, the motion somehow soothing. "Where else might she be? Might _he_ be?"

There was muffled conversation on the other end of the line for several seconds before Barry came back on. "Can you send me the report on Charles Hoyt? Now? Please."

Maura stood and moved to her computer, only feeling a vague twinge of guilt that she had not yet deleted the report that she was most definitely not supposed to be privy to. "Certainly... do you think it will help?"

Another brief muffled conversation occurred before Barry came back on the phone. Maura waited somewhat impatiently. "Yes. I think it will."

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Maura sat in front of her computer, her hand twitching towards her phone every few seconds as she tried to resist the urge to either call or text (or both) Barry or Vince... the problem was that she also kept thinking that her phone was lighting up or vibrating with either a call or a text from them, and it was highly distracting. She had sent the report on Charles Hoyt over half an hour ago now, and had heard nothing in return... did that mean everything was going well, or did that mean everything was... well, was not? Heaving a sigh of frustration, Maura pushed the mouse away in an uncharacteristic display of bad temper, resting her elbows on the desk top and pillowing her head in her hands. Her fingers scratched across her scalp as she attempted to give herself some relief from the headache that had been gradually getting worse over the past few hours.

It was fruitless, she reminded herself, to worry about things beyond her control. Still, she was only human, and the urge to worry was natural, normal. Still, was it normal to worry to this extent, she wondered, when the person in question was only a friend? Indeed, not even a friend of many years... Jane was a friend of mere weeks... or was it months now? And yet... and yet Maura couldn't help the way her belly rolled in fear, the terror of the unknown drying her mouth out and making her heart rate speed to a gallop.

The truth was, she mused reluctantly, was that Jane had already infiltrated her life to such an extent that she could not truly, accurately be called merely a 'friend' anymore. Jane was... Jane was... Maura stood up abruptly, ignoring the word that had popped into her brain without permission.

_My soulmate._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

_"__Will you tell me a bedtime story?"_

_"__Maura..."_

_"__Please," Maura begged unashamedly. "Mother doesn't anymore. She says I'm too big. But I'm still little!" As though to emphasise her point, Maura flattens down the blanket either side of her, clearly showing her petite body. There was silence in the room, and Maura bit her lip anxiously. "Beatie?"_

_There was a sigh, and then the edge of the bed dipped, just slightly. Maura, as always, strained her eyes to see her elusive friend but as always, her efforts were in vain. Beatie was as invisible to her as the day she first appeared. "You are still little," Beatie finally said, and Maura felt the mattress ripple slightly, the hand coming up and stroking her hair was thus completely unsurprising to her. "But I don't know if you'll like any of the stories I have to share."_

_"__I will," Maura said eagerly, and too loudly. At Beatie's shush, she quickly lowered her voice. "I _know_I will. Because it's _you_."_

_There was a soft laugh. "Oh Maura... perhaps 'like' was the wrong word. I meant... any of the stories I have to share, I'm not sure if I should tell you."_

_"__Why not?"_

_There was silence for a minute, but the hand stroking her hair did not hesitate or falter. "Because..." Beatie finally spoke, but trailed off almost straightaway. Maura sat up slowly, allowing Beatie's hand to fall away from her head._

_"__Because I might 'member when I get old?"_

_Beaties sighed. "Yes."_

_Maura strained her eyes through the dark once more, wanting nothing more in her heart than to lay her head upon this woman's chest, to soothe her pain with her childish cuddles. When she was, yet again, disappointed by her eyes inability to see the unseeable, Maura let out a grunt of frustration. "Can't you... make me forget again, after?"_

_"__Maura..."_

_"__Please? I mean..." Maura stopped, frustrated by her inability to express her thoughts, "I mean, you're... you're _magic_, aren't you?"_

_"__Not quite," came Beatie's quiet reply. "But..."_

_Maura seized on that 'but' and grasped it like a lifeline. "Please?"_

_When Beatie sighed again, Maura recognised it as a victory and lay down once more. When the ghostly hand began stroking her hair again, she let her eyes drift lazily closed... but her mind was active as she listened intently for a voice that had not yet begun to talk. Finally, "Beatie?"_

_"__Once upon a time," Beatie began, her voice soft and almost musical in its delivery, "there were two people. One was called Beatie. The other was called..."_

_"__Grace," Maura supplied, and almost instantly, her eyes snapped open and she stared in wonder at the ceiling. How had she known that? The name had simply come to her, as though it was knowledge she had had forever, but had simply... forgotten._

_"__Well," Beatie said after a long hesitation, "I guess I won't need to make you forget much."_

_Maura nodded in agreement, then shook her head, because she didn't know which head movement best answered that statement, and listened in wonder as Beatie continued her story. A story about a woman and a suicidal man standing on a bridge... and the woman who saved them both._

_"__I know that story," Maura said softly, when Beatie was finished. "I do, Beatie... How do I know it?"_

_There was a brief quiet once more, and Maura listened intently as she felt Beatie's hand leave her hair, and Beatie's weight leave the bed._

_"__Beatie?"_

_There was amusement in Beatie's voice when she finally responded. "I guess you couldn't resist either. It was only supposed to be me, you know. That's what we agreed."_

_Maura frowned, baffled. "What?"_

_Beatie cleared her throat. "Sorry, Maura girl. I forgot who I was talking to."_

_"__You're talking to me," Maura replied, still confused._

_"__Yes." Beatie stroked Maura's hair again. "Yes I am. But I need to remember which you I..."_

_"__You need to remember... which... what?"_

_Maura got the distinct impression that, although she couldn't see it, Beatie was shaking her head as though to clear it. "Never mind. But it's time for all good little girls to go to bed to dream of sugarplums and fairies."_

_"__Will you tell me any more bedtime stories, Beatie?"_

_Beatie's hand paused momentarily in its gentle stroking actions. "Probably not."_

_Maura looked down, feeling unaccountably sad. "And it's time for me to forget this one, isn't it?"_

_"__Yes."_

_"__When will I remember it again?"_

_Beatie pulled her blankets up and gave her a motherly kiss to the forehead. "When the time is right, Maura girl. When the time is right."_

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Maura gasped, her eyes wide as she looked about her office as though seeing it for the first time. It wasn't... it _couldn't _be possible... could it? Retrieving the mouse hurriedly from where she had moved it in her temper of mere moments ago (could it be only moments?), Maura placed it back on her mouse pad and waited the indefinably long couple of seconds it took for her computer screen to awaken once more. Taking deep, steady breaths, she clicked on the address bar and typed in Google, and when the search engine appeared, she shakily typed in seven words: **I want to remember my past life.**

When the site loaded, Maura blinked at the sheer number of websites presented. 336,000,000 results, and yet somehow, her answer was in there. Something _had_ to tell her what she needed to know.

Something to let her find out about Beatie and Grace... and how they correlated to the Jane and Maura of today.

And something that would tell her what to do when she finally remembered it all.

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY SIX_**

_As always, I'd love to know what you think. I'm so sorry for the delay... getting down to the nitty gritty of the story is playing havoc on my nerves. I only hope I do an adequate job. :-) Thank you for reading! Lots of love, Katie xoxo_


	27. NOTE

Hi guys! Well, it seems I find myself in the position of needing to apologize again for the lengthy delay... I promise you, I have not given up on this story and I will not give up on this story! But life has been extremely busy lately... lots of babysitting jobs, going to PERTH this weekend to see someone special (YAY! :-D) and in the process of (slowly) moving house! So, lots going on. But I do have the next chapter partly written, it's just a matter of actually finishing it, because mostly, I either have the inclination but no time, or the time, but I'm utterly exhausted. As I want to give you guys quality (or as much quality as I can muster anyway LOL), I don't want to work on it when I'm tired and have it be, well, shitty. So yeah. Um. I'm sorry! Hope you guys still love me! hehe

Lots of love,  
Katie xoxo


	28. Chapter 27

_Hi! I'm back! Do you remember me? Sorry for the long wait. :-( Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one._

_Warning: Charles Hoyt. Need I say more? It's a tad dark, people._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Chapter Twenty Seven

**_It was dark. Why was it so dark? The air was thick... though Beatie did not, any longer, require oxygen, still the air seemed to press on her somehow, seemed to _****bury********_her in some way that was much more confining and claustrophobic than her actual burial. That... that had been nothing, nothing compared to this._**

**_This was... it was just so dark._**

**_She blinked once (or at least made the motion of blinking... she had no body of her own since her death, so there was no eyelids _****to********_blink, and yet still, the world disappeared for a half second and reappeared the next), and moved towards the bed. As always, that blink, that moment of disappearance seemed to have strengthened her sight beyond imagining, and now she could see the prone figure in the bed as clearly as though the room was lit by soft sunlight. Grace was lying on her side, as she always had done, one arm tucked under her head, the other stretching across the bed as though, even in her unconscious state, she was searching fruitlessly for someone she would never find again. The picture was almost perfect, as it always was, and yet... Beatie blinked once more. No, it was not quite as it always was, was it? Even though the other blink had strengthened her even more, the picture in front of her was still somewhat... hazy. The edges of her sight were blackened, as though by soot, and the air was just so thick... There was a crack behind her, and Beatie turned around, her improved eyesight almost unable to cope with the vision in front of her._**

**_It was fire. Their house was on fire, and Beatie could not save Grace._**

**_All she could do was watch._**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Jane jolted awake, both her head and shoulder pounding viciously. What had she _done_ last night? She tried to lift a hand to her head to wipe her sweaty hair out of her eyes, but it would not move, so she frowned and tried to shift to her side. When resistance came from all four of her limbs, sudden realization and memory smashed into her with all the subtlety and delicacy of a steam train, and suddenly, Jane found herself in a blind panic, pulling with all her strength at her restraints and ignoring the agony that was a telltale sign that she was doing more damage to herself than she was actually achieving anything. Feeling her breathing spike, she tried to recall her actions that had led her to this moment.

She had found the address of his original home, yes... had she called it in? Had she told anyone she was coming here? Jane's heart sunk. No. She hadn't. Because Korsak was not listening to her, was dismissing her, and Maura was... what? Distracting her? Was that even fair? Shaking her head, Jane continued to think... she hadn't told Frost because he was in another unit of the police department, and, let's face it, hadn't Jane thought she could handle this on her own? Check out the scene, ensure he was here, and _then_ call it in, thus proving herself and her unlikely early promotion to the homicide unit? No... no, surely that wasn't it. She had just been... excited. Too excited to think properly, too excited to follow protocol, too involved in the case.

Sighing, Jane shook her head, staring up hopelessly at the ceiling. No. That wasn't it. She _had_ been excited, that much was true, _and_ involved, but she had taken the time to think about what she was doing as she had driven to Hoyt's (presumed) residence. She had entered this with full awareness of the rules she was disobeying, had entered with full understanding that this was a potentially dangerous situation, one that she believed she could handle. She was naive, pure and simple. Naive, and overly sure of her own talents. Yes, she _was_ good at her job... but that didn't mean that she had the ability to see everything... to train her gun on all points of the room at all times. And hadn't that been proven today...

Sighing again, Jane continued to replay the day's events in her head. She had pulled up outside Charles Hoyt's old residence and silently inspected it from the safety of her car at first. It _was_ sprawling acreage, as the report had said, but the report had failed to mention just how many trees surrounded the property. She supposed the trees could have been grown since the deaths of Hoyt's parents, some 20 odd years ago, and, looking closer, she suspected that may actually be true for many of the trees. The ones closest to the house were very young, though tall, and seemed to have been planted in a way that restricted viewing of the actual house. Trepidation growing, Jane stepped out of the car and, checking that her badge and gun were secured to her belt, slowly began to approach the property. Her eyes darted around everywhere, trying to see everything, and her heart pounded furiously. Slowly, the residence came properly into view, and Jane stopped behind a tree, gazing up at it in awe.

It was huge. Jane could count 18 windows on this side of the house alone, and she could tell that the house stretched even further the other way. Staring up at those blank windows, the sun glinting off them, felt too much like standing in front of a dozen cameras, and Jane shuddered at the thought that Charles Hoyt could be standing at any window right then, watching her, so, moving even more carefully now, she moved on.

Her heart now pounding so furiously she was half convinced someone would be able to hear it if they were in a five yard vicinity, Jane soon found herself within stone throwing distance of the front door. Should she knock, she wondered vaguely? No, she answered herself almost instantly. She had lost the privilege of knocking the second she decided to treat this man as a definite murderer, rather than a potential one. Now, her only option was to stay the course, stay out of sight... and hopefully find something that would afford her the respect she so yearned to see in Detective Korsak's eyes. Something that would prove that her gut instinct was correct... that Charles Hoyt was the murderer they sought. Setting her sight on the door once more, Jane's mind raced. Should she approach the house cautiously, looking in windows as she had done with Hoyts faux residence? As she was trying to decide this, she moved gradually around the side of the house, stopping when she glimpsed a smaller house almost directly behind the large property. A shed, perhaps? No, it looked too fancy... it was more likely to be a guest house, or even an old servants quarters, Jane ultimately decided. Making her mind up on the spot, she continued quietly, making her way to the smaller residence.

A tree branch cracked behind her.

Jane stopped, her heart seeming to pause in her chest before resuming its original pounding. Her hand moved instinctively to the holster on her left hip, her thumb flicking up the strap even as she whirled around but... there was nothing there. Tree leaves swayed gently, and the silence pressed in at her ears as though it were a live thing, but there was still nothing. Nothing to hear, and nothing to see. Taking a few cautious steps back the way she had come, Jane allowed herself a brief moment to muse on that silence. There was not even the sound of a bird's song here. No insects clicking and chattering, no movement at all. Was it her imagination? Had the sound of her own heartbeat drowned out the normal sounds of nature? Had she perhaps just tuned them out, so intent on her pursuit of evil personified? Or was it simply that the birds and other woodland creatures simply chose to avoid this area, somehow aware of the evil that lurked nearby? Shaking her head to rid it of its fanciful thoughts, Jane turned back to make her way to the smaller house. She had only made it two steps when the sound of another tree branch cracking sent her hand flying to her holster again, but a blinding pain in her shoulder sent her to her knees. Scrabbling desperately with her right hand now, as her left hand hung limp and painful at her side, she glanced up helplessly.

"Hello Officer," a pleasant voice greeted her, before the plank of wood smashed into her again, this time with her head as its target.

Just before she lost consciousness, Jane realized that the birds were singing.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_"_****_No... oh God no..." Beatie moaned, flying to Grace's side. "Grace... Grace, please..." Her hands... or the semblance of hands that still mentally remained after death... fluttered uselessly over the woman she had always lovingly called her wife, even if the world did not yet recognise it as such. "Please wake up... please... I don't want you to go this way..."_**

**_Beatie felt a rush of joy as Grace's eyes slowly fluttered open, but the joy was quickly smothered when she realized how drugged Grace looked. She had already breathed in so much smoke..._**

**_"_****_Grace, _****please****_..." Beatie begged, and Grace blinked slowly a few times, even that small movement sluggish and difficult. Finally, her eyes seemed to focus, and Beatie drew back in confusion as her eyes seemed to be focused... on Beatie herself?_**

**_"_****_Beatie?" Grace breathed, then stopped, her knees drawing up as she began to cough, her chest rising and falling as she feebly tried to draw in air._**

**_"_****_Grace?" Beatie asked in wonder, wincing as Grace struggled._**

**_"_****_I think... I think I'll be with you soon..." Grace gasped out, still staring directly at Beatie, her chest heaving as she breathed shallowly, every second word punctuated by airless coughs._**

**_"_****_No, Grace... no..." Beatie's hands hovered uselessly once more. "No... you can get out of here... you just... you need to crawl..."_**

**_"_****_Do you... remember..." Grace gasped, and Beatie wondered for the first time if Grace could actually see her, or if she was seeing a memory. She wondered if there was really any difference, "when we... first met?"_**

**_Beatie moved her hand to cover Grace's own, wishing she could touch her, _****really********_touch her, just once more... "Of course," she whispered. "It was on the bridge."_**

**_"_****_I loved you... even then..." Grace murmured, and her eyes closed._**

**_Beatie blinked desperately, several times, and the room that had grown so dark and hazy, suddenly cleared. She watched her wife breathe shallowly._**

**_And she waited._**

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"You're awake, Officer."

"Detective," Jane bit out, and she heard a small whimper to her right. She turned her head and saw... Catherine Cordell. Jane's heart sunk. She was dirty, covered only with a mangy looking blanket, and shivering. Jane bit her lip. No one knew she was here. Not only had she failed to save Cordell, she had gotten herself trapped in the lion's den as well. _Fuck_, she thought. Out loud, "My title is _Detective_, thank you."

"I see." The smooth, pleasant voice was somewhere behind her, beyond Jane's line of sight. She stayed still, not about to give him the satisfaction of squirming to try to see him. "And your name?"

"Samantha," Jane said quickly. "Samantha Jones."

"Oh, detective..." Jane jumped as he suddenly appeared above her, twirling a scalpel in one hand and holding her ID in the other. "Isn't it better that we not lie to one another? You know, I always did appreciate honesty..." Suddenly dropping to his knee, he looked down almost lovingly into her face. She stared back into his cool blue eyes, her stomach turning in revulsion. "Besides," he said softly, trailing the scalpel carefully over her skin, but not with enough force to cut... yet, "you don't look like a Samantha. Now, Jane," he drew the word out slowly, his tongue seeming to caress every letter as though greeting a former lover. Jane shuddered, the sound of her own name suddenly repulsing her, "Jane suits you." He rubbed her badge across his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut. Jane looked away, swallowing heavily. "I could see myself getting very fond of you... Jane."

He looked away for a moment, checking her restraints and Jane took a moment to gulp in fresh air, the faint scent of aftershave that clung to him cloying and choking in his imminent presence. When he swung a leg over her body, straddling her much as one would a lover, she drew back, regarding him with careful consideration but careful not to let fear show in her eyes. Fear was what this man fed upon, and she was determined not to give him his meal.

Seeming undeterred by her bravado, he trailed his finger down her nose, over her lips and down her neck. Carefully, he lifted her V-neck and, with one swift move, slit it halfway down, so that it gaped open obscenely. Feeling bare and on display, Jane looked away, only looking back with a gasp when the scalpel bit into the skin above her heart. The cutting seemed to go on forever, not deep enough to cause massive injury, but deep enough so that the blood flowed in tickling rivulets down her side, neck and stomach, and when he finished, he stood up and looked down at his work with satisfaction.

"I like you, Jane Rizzoli," he whispered.

She stared back at him resolutely until he left, only glancing down once she heard the door shut.

He had carved the shape of a heart onto her chest.

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN_**

_So that's it. Hopefully I haven't lost anything in my lengthy absence... please tell me what you think and be honest! Thank you for reading! Lots of love, Katie xoxo_


	29. Chapter 28

_It has been 18 months since I touched this story. 18 months. But, as I promised whoever asked, I can not and will not give up on this story! I thank you all for your patience._

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**_

"Hello?" Maura called out tentatively into the office, her phone clutched in her fist like a lifeline. In a way, she supposed it was. It was her connection to Jane, her connection to those who were helping her. She squeezed it tightly, willing it to ring even as a young man came out to greet her.

On second glance though, young was not, perhaps, the correct word. He was possibly even a little older than Maura herself, though his face was smooth of wrinkles, his eyes wide and innocent in a way Maura could only envy. His office, too, was something that she was not truly expecting. Coming to a hypnotist's office, of course, was not something that she could easily predict but she did not anticipate it being an actual office. She thought... what? That it would perhaps be a circus tent, a crystal ball sitting on a table, a old, hunched over woman sitting in a cloud of smoke, barely visible? Shaking her head at her own imaginings, she quickly held a hand out to greet the man, realizing a split second later that her phone was in her right hand: the hand she held out. Swapping it, she did not miss the way his eyes followed the phone.

"Hello. My name is Dr. Maura Isles, I rang you only a few minutes ago in regards to an appointment," she began professionally. "Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."

"Hello Dr Isles," the man answered her, his voice smooth, deep, and somehow soothing. Maura let out a shuddery breath. "My name is Phillip Lincoln, and you are most welcome. I must say, however, that your phone call intrigued me somewhat."

"I... indeed," Maura stuttered, unsure as to how best to respond, unable to even remember what she had said on the phone to convince this man to see her immediately. "I... I am afraid I must apologize for that. No doubt I..." she glanced down at her phone, convinced it had lit up in her hand, but it remained disappointingly dark, "... I... sorry. I meant to say, no doubt I sounded distracted and..." she looked down again," "and frazzled."

"Yes. I assume it is a standard state of being due to your line of work?" Maura frowned, and the man hastened to explain. "I must admit to 'Googling' you. That case of the woman waking up on your table... that must have been a tough thing to deal with."

"Ah. Well, it... normally, my job is..." she shook her head, frustrated at her inability to focus, but unwilling and unable to pull any more of her mind away from Jane, "It's fairly... sedate, I guess you could say. The dead do not usually cause problems," she half joked, but could not bring herself to produce a smile, even though Mr Lincoln did, "No, I... I am waiting on news of a friend." She looked down at her phone once more, willing it to light up, to tell her something.

"Ah," Mr Lincoln said, pulling his head back and looking at her as though she had answered every question he had. She looked back at him uncertainly. "Well, I think I can safely assume that your phone will not be leaving your hand then. Now, where are my manners?" he continued abruptly. "Would you care to come to the back with me so we can commence our session?"

"I... yes," Maura agreed, adjusting her handbag before fixing the man in front of her with a long stare. "You will help me to remember?"

"My dear," he answered, his bright blue eyes seeming to look right through her, "I think with you, my job is already half done."

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"You said on the phone that her name is Jane, correct?" Mr Lincoln asked, though it sounded more like a statement of fact than a question.

"I... yes. Yes, I..." Maura shook her head, "To be honest, Mr Lincoln..."

"Phillip, please."

"...Phillip," Maura repeated slowly, "I am rather distracted at present and I do not recall what, precisely, I have already divulged to you during our phone call. I believe it was fairly brief, however...?"

"It was, indeed," Mr Lincoln... _Phillip_... agreed, settling down in his chair and gesturing towards the lounge. Maura sat on the very edge of it, her knees pressed tightly together, her handbag on her lap. "You simply said that you needed to remember your past life, that Jane had something to do with it."

"Yes, that's correct." Maura let out a breath and shook her head. "It sounds crazy, but... I'm remembering things. Things that I just... they're so real. And things are happening that make me think..." she shook her head again, "It makes me think that she remembers things too. But how," she let out another staccato breath, "how do I know for sure?"

"When you are talking about past lives, it is difficult to know anything for sure, unless there is some kind of proof."

Maura tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Paperwork that fits with the person's recollections; actual places that exist both in reality and in past life memories. Of course, these things are hard to prove, as there are always charlatans out there, but sometimes..." he looked at her inquisitively. Maura met his gaze head on, curious as to what he could see in her own eyes. "Of course," he continued after a beat, "Proof is not always necessary for the party themselves. They just want to know that they are not going crazy."

"I..." she broke eye contact, looking down at her knees, "yes, that would be nice to know."

He looked at her for another long moment before speaking. "Shall we begin then?"

"Yes please," Maura breathed, sitting a bit further back on the couch and placing her handbag resolutely on the floor, even while her phone did not leave her hand.

_Please help me_, she thought hard, before focusing on clearing her mind.

"Breathe deeply, long and slow," Phillip instructed.

_Please help me._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

_It was dark, and the air was thick, and even though Grace had the distinct memory of finding it difficult to breathe only a moment ago, she now felt fine. Better than fine, really, she felt... she felt amazing. Young, and healthy, without a single ache or creak to her old bones. But how could this be?_

_"__My Grace... my saving Grace..." a voice whispered behind her, and Grace whirled around (or at least experienced the sensation of whirling: she could not quite seem to feel her feet or the rest of her body for that matter), seeing the impossible: Beatie standing behind her._

_"__Beatie?" she breathed lowly, looking to her right as flames abruptly began climbing the walls there. She turned back to her beloved, half expecting her to be gone, but no, there she was, as real as life. Somehow... _more _real. "Beatie... it's on fire. Our home, it's burning!" she spoke rapidly but somehow felt no sense of urgency. The flames weren't hurting her, after all, and she did not even feel the tiniest bit hot. Perhaps she was finally losing her mind? Perhaps this was all a dream, an hallucination?_

_"__It's real," Beatie murmured, and a gentle hand guided Grace to look at the bed, where an old, withered woman lay peacefully: Grace, herself._

_"__Oh," she gasped, making as if to move forward to herself, but Beatie stopped her. It wasn't a hand that guided her movements though, Grace noted absently, but more of a caress of her mind._

_"__It is only a vessel," Beatie told her calmly, and Grace looked back at her, feeling her heart seem to swell with joy as she looked upon the person she loved more than anyone else in the world. "It does not truly matter."_

_"__Beatie," Grace breathed, somehow turned to face her once more, and leaned forward to kiss her for the first time in 3 years. It was everything she remembered, the old fireworks going off once again. She remembered, when she was a child, that someone said that the fireworks go after a while of being in a relationship, that the excitement dims, but the fireworks never had left with Beatie. She still got the same thrill, each time their lips touched. Her eyes slipped closed now, enjoying the almost forgotten sensation._

_She was in a different place when her eyes opened again, but somehow, she was not surprised. Beatie held her hand – at least, the part of her that passed for a hand in this place; she somehow felt that there was no such thing as bodies here – and she knew she was safe. And – she looked at Beatie – just as there were no bodies here, there were also no names. Beatie was no longer Beatie, nor was she Sarah White or Molly Hart, those women of past lives that Grace could now remember clearly. Neither was she Grace, Bertha Wotcher or Evelyn Doherty. She was simply a being, attached to another being, slotting perfectly together, and it was time to enjoy their afterlife together._

_But... not forever. No, time was not an issue here, in fact time did not truly exist. Grace got the distinct impression that if she and Beatie wanted to, they could stay an eternity here, together, but that, conversely, the eternity would end, that she and Beatie would need to return to Earth to gain their true never-ending salvation. Four more times, she suddenly knew. There were only four lives left to live. Four times in which to find each other once more. Four times to be born; four times to die. And what if, on those four times, they never found each other again? She could not feel panicked here, it simply wasn't possible, but she knew she had to do something._

_"__One of us has to remember," she thought hard, and Beatie turned to look at her._

_"__How do we do it?" Beatie thought back, Grace unsurprised to hear the response as though it had been spoken aloud._

_They had done it before, Grace suddenly knew. Perhaps only one other time, perhaps all three of their lives they had cheated the system so to speak, but there was a way._

_She just had to remember._

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

Maura gasped, feeling her phone vibrate in her slack hand. It threatened to pull her out of her almost dream-like state and she fought hard against it. She was close... she was so close...

"Don't lose it, Maura," Phillip encouraged softly, leaning forward, his hand held out as though to catch her should she fall. "You're almost there."

There was something important about her phone, Maura thought hazily... some reason she was holding it in her hand... it seemed unimportant now. Her head lolled as she slipped back into the daze, the phone falling from lazy fingers and landing on the floor, screen up.

It continued to go off, unheard and unseen by both occupants of the room as they focused intently on the treasures Maura's memory kept.

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

**_"_****_You cannot go together."_**

_"__But..."_

_Grace looked around as Beatie argued. Had she pictured the afterlife, this was not what she would have ever imagined. She would have pictured some revolving door in the sky, some uselessly juvenile fantasy of a soul superhighway. Not this... this meeting, this soul search by... what? A Creator? _The_ Creator? Surely there was more than one though. Catching Their eye, she shook her head at her own wonderings. As a living being, she had not been truly convinced by the thought of an all-knowing, all-seeing being, as much as it was frowned upon to not believe. What a fool she had been._

**_"_****_Not a fool, not you," _**_The Creator told her, and Grace gasped. _

_"__Thank you," Grace murmured, and linked her hand with Beatie's even more securely. Had she known, though, had she believed in The Creator, would she have lived her life differently? No, she concluded. She was a good person. _Had _been a good person. Belief would not have altered that._

**_"_****_You wish to enter life once more."_**_ The Creator did not pose it as a question, but both Beatie and Grace nodded._

_"__Yes," Beatie replied firmly, and squeezed Grace's hand._

"You open your eyes." _The voice echoed in Grace's head; she glanced up at The Creator. He did not appear to hear anything. Grace focused on the words spoken and blinked. Could it be that simple?_

"Only me."

_Why only you, Grace thought back furiously, glancing at The Creator curiously. How did he not hear them?_

"Because we are one soul." _Beatie spoke in her head once more, answering her silent question._

_Grace dared to look at Beatie, whose gaze remained single-mindedly focused on The Creator._

"It can only be me," Beatie continued urgently, "because the risk is too great."

_Risk of what, Grace wondered, but it was too late, The Creator was speaking again, his voice echoing all around her and through her in a way that sent shivers through her very soul._

**_"_****_It is time."_**

"Agree, Grace. Please," Beatie said insistently. "It can only be me."

_It can only be you, Grace agreed, and she cried out as she felt Beatie torn away from her._

_"__No! No!"_

**_"_****_Your turn."_**

_Everything was whirling, and everything was black. It was upside down and inside out, and Grace knew that this was it, she was entering a new life. _I agreed not to look_, she thought._

_NO!_

_Tearing her eyes open, she caught sight of a blonde woman (Beatie! her heart declared joyfully) cuddling a tall, willowy brunette (me, I must remember that is me! What is my name? Gra...), then a small child squawling as she entered the world. "Jane..." a woman declared, her eyes full of love as she cradled her child, then, as quickly as it had started, it was over, and Grace entered the world again. She was wrapped in a blanket, crying and confused, unable to even lift her small head, and she could hear her mother calling for her as a man with haunted eyes carried her away._

_"__Maura!"_

_R&amp;IR&amp;IR&amp;I_

"Jane!" Maura gasped, and looked down at her phone. "Oh God," she choked, seeing the missed calls and messages, snatching it up in her hand. She barely noticed Phillip Lincoln staring at her with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said, hastily reaching into her bag and pulling out a bundle of notes. Not bothering to count them, she threw them down. "I must go. Please let me know if..." she trailed off, knowing he could not help her further. She knew what she needed to know. She knew about Grace, about Beatie, and how she and Jane were connected. She knew... or at least could guess... at it all.

What she didn't know was if Jane was even still alive.

Ignoring Phillip's attempts at goodbye, she ran out of the office, barely remembering to snatch up her handbag on the way out, staring down at the most recent message, a message that was frustratingly devoid of detail.

**We found him.**

She hurriedly unlocked her car and climbed in, throwing her handbag on the passenger seat as she typed out a response.

**On my way.**

_Hold on, Jane._

_Please, I only just found you again._

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT_**

_I'm scared to ask what you all think, but please let me know anyway. xoxo_


	30. Chapter 29

_Nothing for 18 months, then two chapters in less than 24 hours. Damn, guess the writing bug has well and truly bitten again! Thank you for all the reviews. P.S. If you are clicking on this link because you asked to be notified about story updates, please check chapter 28 to ensure you have read it too. Thank you._

_**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**_

**_"_****_You cannot go together."_** The voice stirred Jane's memory, attempting to bring something to the surface. Half delirious, she struggled against her bindings. The ropes were unforgiving, unrelenting and bit into already torn skin, but Jane did not feel it.

"**But I have to be with her!"** she heard a voice argue, and she turned her head as though seeking that oh so familiar voice. Who was it? It wasn't her mother... nor her father or her brothers. It was feminine, but so familiar. It almost sounded like it could have been an aunt or a cousin... someone Jane had not seen for a long time, but still remembered.

_Beatie_...

Could it be? Jane's drugged mind struggled with the possibility. She had been so focused on her current life... so wrapped up in her job and her friends and family... that she had not focused nearly as much on those past memories. She could barely remember the sound of her own voice... _Beatie's_ own voice.

A sudden flash... a memory of fire streaking up a wall had Jane moaning and tossing her head feverishly, her eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on her face.

_"__Beatie..."_ a voice breathed in wonder, seeming to be so close that, had Jane the strength, she would have opened her eyes to look for who must surely be right beside her... to look for Grace.

_"__Hello, my name is Dr Maura Isles and I rang you only a few minutes ago in re..."_ Jane tossed her head again anxiously. Maura. Why was Maura coming to her thoughts now? Why was her head such a confusing mess? Hoyt had injected her with something before he left... claimed it would keep her calm so she would not try to escape before he could have his 'fun'. What was it? She had tried to look at the bottle, but could not see more than a couple of letters, and even those letters escaped her presently. Maura would know, though, Maura would know if Jane could just remember the letters...

_Oh God, Maura. Will I ever see her again?_

_"__...you needed to remember your past life, that Jane had something to do with..."_ Jane moaned and thrashed again, absently feeling blood pour from her wrists and ankles but still not feeling pain. _Am I in shock?_ she wondered, then winced as a picture of a man rose beneath her closed eyelids. A man she had never seen before, with piercing blue eyes.

_GRACE, HELP ME_, Jane shrieked internally, and moaned as an image rose once more, of Maura, standing behind a computer screen, waiting anxiously as a spinning wheel appeared on the screen, lowering her hand from her mouth when a message popped up confirming that her email had sent.

_Maura?_

Suddenly, the image changed, and she was reliving one of the first and strongest memories she could ever remember seeing.

**_*** "...nothing left to live for!"_**

**_"_****_You do, Jeremy, you do... you have your friends, your family... they all love you dearly..." Elizabeth glanced down at the rushing waters below, taking a deep breath as she tried to steel her nerves. Good _****God****_, she hated heights. "You have _****so much****_ to live for... you can't just throw it all away."_**

**_"_****_Why not?" Jeremy asked hopelessly, and Elizabeth sighed heavily, looking at him._**

**_"_****_Because you'd be giving up. And I _****know****_ you, Jeremy Wilder. When..."***_**

It faded in and out, like a badly tuned radio. Jane groaned, the sweat that had previously just been beading, now gradually running down her face in rivulets.

**_***"... are an _****idiot!****_ Can you even swim?"_**

**_"_****_I... well, no, not really..."***_**

The image of Grace morphed again, and suddenly it was Maura, sitting primly on the edge of a lounge, her phone clenched tightly in her hand.

_Grace? ..._Maura?

_"__One of us has to remember," Grace thought hard, and Beatie turned to look at her._

_"__How do we do it?" she replied silently, determinedly._

_Grace shook her head. "I don't... I don't know."_

Jane moaned. God, they had done it before, hadn't they? They had cheated the system before. Was this her punishment? _Please no..._

**_"_****_You wish to enter life once more,"_**_ The Creator spoke, and Beatie knew that, if she had a body, her knees would be knocking together. But... Grace was worth it. She nodded, then, feeling like that wasn't enough, answered out loud._

_"__Yes."_

_As soon as the word was spoken, she squeezed Grace's hand, and the answer came to her in a flash of sudden understanding._

"You open your eyes,"_ she told Grace urgently, silently, using their special link to communicate, then she said, "_Only me."

_Grace agreed, but Beatie knew better than to believe her. And when she got torn away and tossed in the whirlwind, she only kept her eyes closed long enough so that she wouldn't have to see Grace taken from her again, that The Creator would not see her defy this one rule._

_And then she opened them._

"Jane? Oh God, Jane, please stop moving... you're just hurting yourself more..." a voice moaned, but Jane ignored it, thrashing her body now like a wild thing, trying to bring the memories forward more rapidly. Where was Hoyt? Did it matter? God, _yes_, of course it mattered. She had to find Maura. She had to tell her... she had to let her know...

_Images were flying past, almost too quickly to see, in a dizzying array of lights and noise, but Beatie did not close her eyes again. She kept them open, ignoring the burn, watching as her life flew past. The bridge, the paint, Dr Grace Saunders, Robert Edgar, John Smith, Lucille Collins... so many minor people that played some small role in her life as Elizabeth Mills, and she committed them fiercely to memory. Lucy, Betsy, _Jeremy Wilder_... that horrible woman Gertrude... and then a kiss between two shy friends on a river bank. A life slowly built together. So many long and glorious days of happiness that she almost felt like she could not bear it. Grey hairs, and creaking bones. Falling asleep in each other's arms every night. And then... an illness. It made her cough, firstly, and that was not so bad, but then she could not breathe for coughing. She could not move. The illness that first stole her energy, then her life. A funeral, a burial. An old woman – Grace – sitting by a fire, alone... so terribly alone, then stumbling off to bed, the tears still falling down her cheeks every night despite the fact that Beatie had left her three years ago._

_The fireplace. The fire that had not been properly doused. The spark._

_The fire that licked the walls ravenously._

_And then... "My Saving Grace..."_

_Her eyes closed and then opened, as she came into the world, new once again, and looking up in wonder as a woman with hazel eyes and chocolate hair smiled down on her. "Jane..." she whispered, "My daughter..."_

"Grace! Maura!" Jane called out, her eyelids finally wrenching open with some effort as she gazed around the room. Catherine... _was_ that Catherine?... looked at her with wide, terrified eyes. "Wh..." Jane cleared her throat, wishing she had some water, "Where are we?"

"I... I don't know," Catherine mumbled, moving a tiny bit closer to Jane, her hands stretched out awkwardly behind her as she tried not to pull on her own restraints too much. She was given a lot more freedom to move, Jane noted, than she herself was given. Maybe Hoyt didn't want to take any chances with a police officer.

Wait, she was a police officer! So, her gun... she strained to look at her hip, not at all surprised to see the holster missing along with her belt. Her pants were undone too, along with the mess he had made of her shirt, and she had a brief moment of panic as she wondered why Hoyt had felt it necessary to undo her pants. Squirming (carefully, this time), she could feel nothing unusual in her nether regions, no reason to believe that she had been raped... at least, not yet... so she relaxed a little bit and took in her surroundings, willing herself to remember as much as possible. She had to get back to Maura, after all.

_Maura..._

Pulling her mind back to the present forcibly, she looked around, paying no mind to Catherine who still looked at her concernedly.

"Were you awake when he brought you in here?" Jane asked gently, looking at the other woman, who shook her head nervously.

"No. No... he..." her face crumpled and Jane winced, aching to give her a hug. "He came to my house... it was the middle of the night. We heard a noise. Benji... he went down to have a look, but he... he didn't come back up. It was so quiet though. I mean, I don't know how he did it, Benji, he is... he w-_was_..." Catherine's voice wobbled dangerously, but she did not succumb to tears yet, "quite a big man. I don't know how Hoyt... how he subdued him so... so quietly. But I thought ... I thought I'd go check. So I grabbed a pocket knife, and headed downstairs." Her face seemed to fold in on itself again as she tried to suppress her tears. "I didn't even see him. He just... he grabbed me, and threw me down and... the knife flew out of my hand, and my husband was sitting on the sofa, bound and gagged, a _teacup_ on his knee. And I couldn't figure out the teacup but then Hoyt was there and he was spreading my knees and I... I..." she couldn't continue, overcome by emotion. Jane felt tears leaking out of her eyes as this woman described her living nightmare. "When he was... when he was _done,_ he gagged me. Put something in my arm. And just before I went under, he... he..." she shook her head and her mouth moved silently, no words coming out. Jane watched her sympathetically, "he slit Benjamin's throat. The blood... went everywhere. It's still on me. I... I watched my husband die. And then..." she took a breath, trying to calm herself, "And then... I woke up here."

"Oh God..." Jane muttered, shaking her head. "I... Catherine, I'm so... I'm sorry. I... _fuck._"

Catherine sniffled but didn't say anything further. Jane tried her best to wipe her eyes by turning her head to her shoulders, but finally realizing that wouldn't work, she instead looked around at the room they were in.

"Holy fuck..." she couldn't help but mutter. It looked almost like a surgery, with medical equipment lining the walls, but Jane knew better. This was a torture chamber. And who better than an almost doctor, to torture you? She thought of the machine that could so easily show where blood had been in a room, and found herself wondering how much blood had been spilt in this room, of what that light would show. She thought of the Cordell residence, and suddenly her stomach was rebelling, and she found herself struggling to keep down the tiny amount of food that was still in her stomach. _Focus, damnit_, she thought to herself, and after a few precious minutes, when she felt she had regained control, she craned her neck around to see as much of their surroundings as possible. The walls were, as near Jane could tell, made of concrete, which seemed to suggest a basement or underground shelter of some kind. There were no windows and only one door that she could see. She peered towards the darkness at the end of the room, but her eyes could not pick out any details. Perhaps there was another door there, but it was too dark to tell. Certainly though, based on their location in the middle of the woods, and the quality of their shelter... no one would hear them scream.

"Has he hurt you since he brought you here?" Jane asked, and immediately, Catherine's eyes skittered away ashamedly. Jane cursed. Of course he had. He had to have his fun, after all. But... she did the mental calculations. Catherine had been here for... what, three days now? Hoyt must be nearing the end of his enjoyment with her. He'd be ready for someone new... _yes, and he's got someone new. Me_, Jane thought sombrely.

As though her thoughts had summoned him, the door rattled. Catherine shuffled away from Jane as fast as she could, while Jane herself lay helpless. She wanted to close her eyes to protect her from the monster, but she knew that it would not make this particular monster go away.

_God, how could I have been so stupid as to come here by myself?_

The door swung open and keys jangled. Jane felt her heart speed up as she focused on her bindings, willing just a fraction of flexibility from them, but it was no use. He had done his job well... the only way she would be able to free herself would be to literally de-skin her own hands.

"Hello, ladies," Hoyt said smoothly, and Jane twitched, suddenly overcome with the urge to cover herself up, to hide the heart he had carved in her chest, but of course she couldn't. She couldn't move and... she realized with a kind of dawning horror that seemed absurd in such a situation... she needed to use the bathroom.

"Hoyt," Jane countered calmly. "Plan on loosening these restraints at any point, or are you too much of a coward?"

"Oh Jane..." Even though she was not straining her neck to see him, he suddenly appeared in view. "You have researched me. You know that I will not be swayed by insults."

Jane quirked an eyebrow, trying to calm her noticeable shaking. "Worth a shot."

"Worth a shot, indeed." He crouched down beside her, twiddling something in his hand. With a jolt, Jane suddenly recognised it... he held a scalpel.

"Well then," she continued with false bravado, "will you at least escort a lady to the restroom?"

Hoyt smirked. "No," he said simply and, swapping the scalpel to his left hand, reached out and traced the lines of the heart on her chest gently with his pinkie. She tried to stop the shiver of revulsion, and watched with bated breath as he moved the scalpel back to his dominant hand, but then he was standing up and moving away. Jane let out a breath, hating herself for the relief she felt even as she realized he was heading for Catherine.

"No," she whispered, and Hoyt turned, smiling in her direction.

"Ladies, ladies..." he announced, twirling slowly as though he were on a game show, looking at both of them in turn. "You see, we have an issue here. I only need one playmate and..." his smile grew, "right now, I have two."

"Oh God..." Catherine moaned, and it was an absent kind of awareness that had Jane noting that her own pants were suddenly warm and wet around the crotch. She didn't need the toilet anymore, that was one good thing, she thought half hysterically as Charles Hoyt slinked closer to Catherine, twiddling that damn scalpel between his fingers. Suddenly changing direction, he headed over to a workbench, opening a drawer and pulling something out. Jane struggled to see what it was, but all she could see was something long and black. He flicked something on it, and she heard a noise... was it charging? _Oh my God, it's... _she only got half the thought out before Hoyt crouched down, putting the taser to Catherine's neck and watching as she fell back bonelessly, helplessly. He crouched down and brought the scalpel to her neck, teasing her with it. Jane watched, unable to drag her eyes away as he cut a little deeper, a thin line of blood snaking it's way down Catherine's neck and... a phone rang.

Hoyt's eyes narrowed as he looked at the line of blood, his breathing harsh and heavy, before he grunted and pulled a phone out of his back pocket. Jane struggled to hear the conversation, but it was muttered in low tones, and the call was only short. He hung up and put the phone back, looking at Jane and Catherine with regret. "Someone always wants to spoil my fun." He looked between the two women, seeming to be deciding something. "Yes," he mumbled to himself. "They will go there first... it will take them a bit to realize about here..." He looked at Catherine. "I will be rushing things a bit, but these things can't be helped..." Jane looked at him, lost. Who was 'they'? The police? Korsak? Frost? _Maura?_

_My saving Grace..._

"Yes. So, I will kill you first," Hoyt told Catherine in a conversational tone as she struggled to pull herself out of the taser-induced daze, "and drag you out to the woods. You will have to rest there for a time, my dear, until I can properly dispose of you. Then, you, Jane..." he licked his lips obscenely, his eyes moving down her form slowly until she felt violated by his very gaze. She shuddered, unable to stop herself and he smiled, seeming satisfied by that response, "you, I will take on a trip. We will go somewhere new to have our fun. It's not as good as home," he sighed, looking around his torture chamber with an air of despondency, "but never mind," he said, smiling once again. "We shall create our own fun, won't we, Jane?" He trailed a finger down her cheek and she shivered, turning away, a whimper escaping despite her best efforts to stay silent.

"For now, though..." Hoyt walked over to some hooks near the door and took down what, at first glance, appeared to be a tarpaulin. But as he grabbed it, she realized it had sleeves... it was a full body apron. "I don't like to use this very often," he explained to Jane as Catherine stirred even more, slowly trying to bring herself up to a seated position, "I much prefer to bathe in the offering of my playmates. But sometimes, speed is of the essence, and when I can't afford to clean myself up afterwards..."

"You're sick," Jane spat, and he laughed.

"Oh Jane. Such virility, such temper... I can see I will have great fun with you. But other duties await before I can enjoy your body..." Without further ado, he walked over to Catherine who had, Jane realized in horror, regained full awareness once more. She stared at him in abject terror as the scalpel descended, and Jane's eyes slammed shut.

_HELP ME!_

**_END CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE_**

_Please let me know what you think. I think we're nearing the end now... it will just be a matter of wrapping it all up (which still may take another 5 chapters! We'll just have to wait and see). Love to all! -Katie xoxo  
P.S. Do you guys call it a 'tarpaulin' in America? It sounds weird to me, I've always just called it a tarp, but I'm not sure if that's an Australian thing so I put the full word in. Let me know if there's a different name for it there please.  
_


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